Tales of the Otherworld (42 page)

Cassandra turned to Paige. “And you thought
I
was difficult.”

“Yeah,” Aaron said, after Cassandra passed me her cell phone. “As much as I think this asshole is making a very big mistake, I gotta go with Cass on this one. He doesn’t want our help? Fuck him.”

“That would be my sentiment as well,” I said. “However, what Paige and I need at this point is your and Cassandra’s blessing, in light of Geddes’s behavior, to pursue him as a possible suspect. If he’s responsible for this death, then it’s a matter for the council.”

“Hell, yes. Vamps want an ombudsman? I’m here. They want someone to hide behind when they screw up and leave bodies lying around? They got the wrong guy. If it turns out he’s your killer, Cass and I will take over through the council.”

Twenty minutes later, Cassandra was driving back to Portland. She’d offered to stay with Savannah overnight while Paige and I staked out Geddes’s house. Our visit may have been just the impetus he needed to run, fleeing justice, fleeing persecution…or stepping out to hide the evidence.

It was almost midnight and Geddes hadn’t left his house. Paige and I had spent the evening talking about the case. Even just lobbing ideas back and forth was gratifying in a way I would never have imagined before I met Paige.

I’d always been a loner. Even in childhood, while I always had playmates, I’d had few true friends. I wasn’t antisocial or unfriendly, but I’d never been comfortable allowing anyone more intimate access to my life. Then I met Paige and found myself not only willing to open up and share my life, but eager to.

I didn’t need her at my side every waking moment—we were both too independent for that. But having someone I could talk to about a case, bounce around theories, debate motivations and courses of action? Having that person be just as passionate about it as I was? It was something I’d never dared hope for.

As we talked, she was more animated than she ever was talking about Web site programming, however much she enjoyed her job. It was like
legal work with me. I enjoy it well enough, but it is a means to an end—for me, access to the cases I love and the legal know-how often needed to resolve them. But a life of nothing but law? I couldn’t imagine it. Paige knew that. When I’d suggested significantly increasing my legal work, even taking a job with a firm, she’d vetoed the idea. Yet she too needed more, and being here on this case together, seeing her excitement, only proved that.

By midnight, we were running out of steam and Paige was doing more yawning than talking.

“Crawl into the back,” I said. “We can take turns napping.”

“Let’s give it another hour first. This might be just the time he’ll leave, when the neighborhood quiets down for the night.”

As she rolled down her window more to get some cool air, I said, “Shall we play a game to pass the time?”

“Such as…?”

“I was thinking Hangman. Unoriginal, I know, but with only a paper and pen, I’m at a loss for anything more interesting. However, I’m certain we could overcome that problem by laying wagers on the outcome.”

She grinned. “Like the winner gets the last bottle of water?”

“That’s one possibility, though I was hoping you might be amenable to satisfying something other than thirst.”

“Winner’s choice?”

I considered the possibilities. “The stakes, I believe, should be implicit in the solution of the puzzle, though not necessarily explicitly so. The winner, then, receives the appropriate prize.”

“You’re on.”

She grabbed a pen and paper from the back.

Paige created the first puzzle.

I won it.

Five minutes after my victory, as I was relishing my reward, I noticed a movement near Geddes’s house, a dark shadow moving against the darker backdrop. Not being particularly eager to interrupt Paige for what
might well be a neighbor’s pet, I squinted to watch it. Even when I saw a flicker of light—a flashlight beam swiftly doused—I told myself the matter was not urgent and could wait a few minutes…perhaps longer.

I must have conveyed my mild distraction to Paige, though, and she lifted her head from my lap with a murmured “See something?”

When I hesitated, she sat up and peered out my window.

“It looks like Geddes is sneaking out.”

“Unfortunately,” I sighed.

“Guess that wasn’t the wisest idea,” she said as she zipped my pants. “Too distracting a distraction.”

“Rendering me somewhat disinclined to react promptly to an outside concern.”

“Somewhat?”

“My apologies. The correct word choice would be
significantly
.”

“
Somewhat
is fine,” she said, smiling, as she slid out of the car. “It only means I’ll need to practice more to perfect my technique.”

While I could argue most vehemently that her diagnosis was incorrect, it would be foolish of me to dissuade her from pursuing her solution. As she walked around the front of the car, I gave myself a moment to refocus on the task at hand. She motioned that she’d start heading over to Geddes’s, and I watched her go, her hips swaying, sweater tight around the generous curve of her breasts…which wasn’t helping me refocus at all.

I allowed myself a moment longer to watch her, while reminding myself that we’d be able to pick up where we’d left off, in the more spacious and comfortable surroundings of a hotel room. Then I tore my gaze away and opened my door.

The houses were on large lots made private by wooden fences and fast-growing evergreens. The fences made sneaking through backyards impossible, so we settled for the road, affecting the only disguise we could: a couple out for a late-night walk. When we drew close enough to Geddes’s house to be spotted, we slipped into the shadow of an SUV parked at the side of the road.

“His car is still there,” Paige whispered. “And there’s no sign of anyone in the yard.”

I motioned for her to stay down as I peered out. A faint, flickering glow shone from between Geddes’s drawn curtains. A television.

A movement alongside his car caught my attention. A figure was huddled there, watching the house, hands and face dark. Camouflaged. As he lifted something to his lips, I pulled back.

“Cabal SWAT team,” I whispered.

Paige let out a curse.

“Our options are limited,” I said. “It’s too late to get to the house and warn him—”

She lifted her cell phone. I nodded and she crept up the front yard of the neighboring house. I covered her retreat, then followed.

She’d found a spot behind a cedar and was already dialing as I approached.

“Mr. Geddes,” she said, keeping her voice low. “This is Paige Winterbourne. I came by today with Cassandra DuCharme—”

Even three feet away, I heard the line disconnect. Paige looked at me, eyes fuming. I reached for her phone and pressed redial.

The answering machine picked up on the first ring.

“Mr. Geddes,” I said. “Evidently either you believe we’re lying or the Cabals don’t frighten you. If it’s the latter, then all I can say—most respectfully—is that you are a fool. If it’s the former, I’d suggest you confirm the situation by looking out your window, to the right of your vehicle, where you will see an armed Cabal security officer approaching your home. You may be aware of a death Friday night in Middleton, where a man was found drained of blood with bite marks in his neck.”

A click. Then a cold “I didn’t do that.”

“Perhaps, but—”

“And I’m not going to run and look as if I’m guilty.”

“Under normal circumstances, that might be judicious. But the Cabal most likely to be staking out your house is the Nasts. Their CEO, Thomas Nast, lost a teenage grandson to a vampire two years ago. Edward Hagen. Perhaps you heard of the case?”

Geddes let out a string of curses, many in languages other than English.

“I don’t want to run,” he repeated.

“And you won’t—for long. Our primary objective at this moment is to transfer control of your defense—”

“Defense? I haven’t done anything.”

“And the best people to prove that are the delegates of the interracial council. First, though, we need you out of the house.”

I instructed him to slip out the back, make his way out of the suburbs, then call us. As soon as I finished, he hung up.

“Was that a yes?” Paige whispered.

“I hope so.”

Once we’d given Geddes the opportunity to escape, it was time for me to do what, according to many, I did best: interfere.

I told Paige to stay behind. A simple matter of safety, which she understood. My immunity did not extend to her.

As I crossed the road, it would appear that my stride was determined, my chin high, my confidence unwavering. A necessary facade for pulling off such a delicate act of faith. Striding into the midst of a Cabal takedown operation, I could be shot by any new Cabal employee who didn’t recognize me. I could even be shot by an employee who
did
, but decided that the darkness would excuse accidentally killing me…and claiming the quiet gratitude of his employers. The surest way to stay a Cabal security officer’s hand on his weapon was to look and act as if I had every right to be there, and had every confidence that if any harm came to me, my father’s retaliation would be swift and merciless.

As I walked toward the dark figure crouched by the side door, the man turned, tensing. Then he straightened, like a soldier snapping to attention. Still walking, I dropped my gaze to his outfit. It bore no insignia—a secret ops team is hardly going to announce its affiliation—but I knew Cabal uniforms well enough to identify the design. This wasn’t the Nast Cabal’s SWAT team. It was my father’s.

I
ENTERED THE HOUSE THROUGH THE REAR
door, which the team had already discovered unlocked and had used to infiltrate the house. As I canvassed the rooms to ensure Geddes had left, I gave more than one prowling team member a start. All must have been wondering what I was doing there. Yet not one asked, and I didn’t enlighten them.

I was in Geddes’s living room, thumbing through his address book, when footsteps sounded in the hall—not the heavy clomp of boots, but the slap of dress shoes. A man snapped an order. At the sound of the voice, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. But I kept my gaze on the book, perusing the endless client numbers. The doorway darkened as a figure filled it. He walked into the middle of the room, the heat of his rage palpable.

“Hello, Hector,” I said.

My oldest half brother, twenty years my senior and the only one of the three whom I can say with honesty that I fear. The youngest, Carlos, had inherited his mother’s cruel streak, but none of our father’s intelligence. The middle one, William, sadly received neither, and little to compensate for the lack. Only in Hector did both traits coincide—venom plus the mental capacity to use it to its fullest advantage.

Hector called to a SWAT team member in the hall. “Get Stanton in here.”

“The team leader is Gus Reichs,” I said mildly. Then I looked at the security officer. “I believe you’ll find him on the upper level.”

“Yes, sir.”

Moments later, the young officer returned with Reichs, who paused in the doorway, his gaze going from Hector to me, uncertain whom to address.

I greeted him, then said, “Hector wished to speak to you.”

“We’ve searched the house, sir,” Reichs began. “But there’s no sign of—”

“Of course there isn’t,” Hector snapped. “If
he’s
here”—A thumb jerked my way—“then the vampire isn’t. Lucas is stalling us, giving his client time to escape.”

“Spencer Geddes is not my client.” I picked up Geddes’s Day-Timer. “However, as the actions for which he is being investigated in no way affect Cabal business, they are a matter for the interracial council, not the Cabal.”

“He murdered—”

“Not a Cabal employee or even a supernatural. And if it was his required annual kill, it does not, according to the statutes, constitute murder, however much we may argue the point. Instead this would be considered improper body disposal, which is a council concern.”

As I spoke, I leafed through Geddes’s planner. Distancing myself from the argument. My usual approach to dealing with Hector.

“Find the vampire,” Hector said to Reichs, “and place him in Cortez Cabal custody.”

Reichs glanced my way, waiting. Hector’s eyes glittered, his blood pressure rising.

“Hector has given the order,” I said, “but please exercise restraint in the capture. I was the one who told Mr. Geddes to run.”

“Since when do you approve my orders, Lucas?” Hector said as Reichs left.

“I didn’t. I was merely clarifying the situation, so the team doesn’t blame Geddes for fleeing.”

I returned my attention to the planner. Hector strode over and plucked it from my hands.

“Don’t you
ever
give an order to my employees after I’ve already done so.”

“I apologize. I assure you, my intention was not—”

“Your intention was to make a fool of me. Don’t make it worse with your pompous apologies.”

I hoped I didn’t flush, but turned my face away, just in case. “If that officer looked to me for verification of the order, that is not my fault. I wish you’d place the blame where it belongs—on the man who created the situation.”