Solving the Vampire Murders

forty-four

A vampire had been led into the lounge with blood dripping down his chin. The dark liquid landed on the patterned rug he was kneeling on.

The scent of blood hung heavy in the lounge, as thick as the velvet drapes.

Anxiety did things physically that couldn't be explained or stopped, and being particularly sensitive to the sight and smell of blood was one of them.

Torren was frozen in place, watching blood collect on the carpet like dew on a petal.

Could vampires bleed? Did he care?

The thing had killed Mandy.

"This is Faris." Clint kicked the vampire in the ribs. "Where are your manners? Say hello to Torren, Faris."

Through matted black hair, the vampire lifted his gaze to Torren's. Shockingly green eyes filled with pain. His ghostly shade stood a respectful distance away from the group, wearing a blood-stained linen shirt and pants—the beginnings of a beard forming on his face.

"You are Mandy's friend?" the vampire asked. Voice deep and rich. And British.

This creature had found Mandy at Grief Group—the one place where she could finally find peace and process her dad's death. This thing stole her life.

The knowledge that Mandy's final resting place had been this man's arms hurt Torren in places that he thought had gone numb long ago. An ache that throbbed in every joint. A hollowness that emptied his chest of air.

"Not just her friend." Resting the pool cue on the ground, Torren knelt beside the vampire. A strand of ash blonde hair falling in his eyes. "Her best friend."

The creature nodded—his gaze slipping to the wooden pool cue in front of him.

Clint grabbed a handful of the vampire's black hair. His nose pressed to Faris's ear. "Tell him that your filthy, lying hands were all over her. Tell Torren how you took her life."

"Mandy's dead?" Zach asked. Sucking in a breath. "How? I mean—she was alive. Or, as alive as a vampire can be."

"What? You knew she was...a...a..."

The word vampire hung in the air.

Jones let out a sigh. "Mandy wanted to tell you herself."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me? I could have said something. I could have..." Torren's head fell into trembling hands. Anger and pain warring for control. He turned back to the vampire. "Why? Why her?"

Clint yanked harder on Faris's hair. "Answer the man."

The vampire's bottle-green eyes closed. The column of his throat exposed. The ridges of his esophagus visible through taut skin. Slowly, ever so slowly, the vampire fluttered open his eyes. Meeting Torren's gaze, he said, "Selfishness."

That wasn't the answer Torren was expecting.

"He admits it." Clint released his hold on Faris's hair, throwing his arms open wide and spinning in a slow circle.

A door burst open, and a haggard-looking vampire was shoved in, followed by Gianna. Their shades adding to the growing collection of ghosts in the lounge. Torren counted twelve in total, not including India, who remained at Jones's side. Now that Jones knew she was there, India seemed unwilling to leave her.

"What is the meaning of this, boy?" Gianna said in a forced calm. "Explain yourself."

Clint sloughed off his smile like a snake shedding skin. Pleasantries forgotten. "Oh, no. That's not how this works. This is my coven, not yours. Mine. You answer to me."