A Devil in the Dark

Chapter 8 - Blane

A murder? Was that all? For a moment, I thought Wren was going to come up with something dramatic like, say, the unexpected transformation of a werewolf. Which weren't supposed to exist, of course. Damn my Great-Uncle Tiberius and his little experiments. The whole pack of werewolves had escaped several centuries ago, and no one knew where they'd ended up. There were rumours, of course, but two years ago when Joseph and I got curious after a slew of sightings and took a vacation to the Carpathian Mountains, all we'd found was a very lost husky.

I had to be grateful to the dog, though. That overly friendly mutt was the reason I'd met my dear Nevaeh.

"A murder? Well, that should be straightforward to rectify. All you need to do is tell the police everything you know, and they'll take it from there. If you need an introduction to a detective in the LVMPD, I'm sure—"

"No! No, no, no, no, no. Are you crazy? No cops."

Wren eyed up the door, but thankfully I spotted Joseph loitering outside. If he rugby-tackled her in the walkway, that would be awkward, but not as awkward as having to chase her in a truck with a faulty muffler.

"What's wrong with the police?"

I thought mortals were fond of law enforcement? Cops were by far the most popular type of stripper, and humans even had a hotline to call them. Actual cops, not stripper cops. Although that could be an interesting idea for a new business opportunity. Press one for a cop, two for a fireman, three for a cowboy...

"Because Laurent owns cops. Caria went to meet a detective from the LVMPD, and she never came back. Now Laurent has her."

"Maybe he spotted her on the trip over there?"

Wren was already shaking her head. "You don't understand. He made her call me. She was supposed to lie, to say everything was fine and I should come over to her place for coffee, but at the last moment, she told me the cop called Laurent and he picked her up. She screamed at me to run, and then I think...I think he hit her. The line went dead."

"So you ran."

"What else was I meant to do? I'm so s-s-scared, and I'm terrified for Caria. What if he kills her too?"

Kayden put a comforting arm around his sister's shoulders. "Nah, he can't kill her, not when he might need her to contact you again. As long as you're in the wind, he has to keep her alive."

"Do you really think so?"

"If I was a sicko trying to avoid prison, that's what I'd do."

Kayden's theory did make a certain amount of sense. If Caria was still breathing, then Laurent could use her as bait or a bargaining chip. If her soul went to Plane Four, Wren would have no incentive to stay in line. She could take out a full-page ad in the Las Vegas Review-Journal with all the juicy details of Laurent's crimes.

"So what's the long-term plan?" I asked. "You're going to live in a motel in Utah?"

Granted, I wasn't well-acquainted with Wren's finances, but she'd never struck me as the type of woman who had spare cash lying around. Although I paid my staff above-average wages, rent wasn't cheap in Vegas, and Wren didn't have anyone to split living costs with. Or perhaps once she'd evaluated, she'd move in with her brother? Or head to another city in another state? I'd cover the costs for a few months to help out because that was what a responsible human would do, but she'd have to find a better place to stay than the Rest-E-Z Motel. Was there a Four Seasons around here?

"How can I stay here? Caria's still with that monster, and I have to find a way to get her out of there."

Quite understandably, Kayden didn't like the idea of Wren running into the arms of the Grim Reaper. Who was mostly a myth, by the way. I say "mostly" because rumour said that one of the Electi had made a particularly poor choice when it came to selecting an outfit on All Hallows Eve several years ago and accidentally turned into a bit of a legend.