Читать книгу Taken By The Others - Jess Haines - Страница 8

I stayed late in the office. Sara, my business partner, was out of town until Sunday. Jen had gone home hours ago. The office was dark, the only light a small lamp illuminating the pictures I had spread out across my desk. Since it was Friday, I’d made plans with my boyfriend, but for later, when I got off work. Chaz would pick up dinner and come to my place around eight. Until then, I wanted to keep busy rather than sit around worrying about what big bad monster was coming to town this time.

The photographs in front of me were arranged in a series, laid out carefully next to a detailed inventory of stock. An insurance agent had called me in to investigate one of her clients. Jeremy Pryce claimed his company warehouse, which had a large store of valuable designer clothes, had burned down in an accident. The fire department had closed its investigation into the cause, reporting that faulty electrical work set off sparks during a thunderstorm and sent the whole building up in flames.

The agent, Cheryl Benedict, was convinced that Pryce had rigged the fire somehow. I didn’t know who tipped her off, but she was right. The pictures in front of me were the ones I’d taken over the last two weeks of Mr. Pryce giving gifts to different beautiful women–women who were definitely not his wife. Unsurprisingly, the gifts were clothes–designer ones, as a matter of fact. Many matching the exact descriptions in the inventory of everything that supposedly went up in flames two months ago.

“Gotcha.” I grinned, carefully ticking off and noting everything claimed destroyed that appeared in the photographs.

When I was about halfway through my notations, my cell phone belted out Beethoven’s Fifth. An unknown caller.

I picked it up, glancing at the window and noting the sun had nearly set. There were a few last rays turning everything a golden hue at the edges and leaving deep shadows between buildings.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Waynest,” Royce’s voice was smooth and cordial. “You do have the most fortuitous timing. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

I cringed. My, how perceptive. I bit my tongue to keep from saying that thought out loud. Wasn’t it too early for him to be up and about? “I heard from a little bird today that someone of interest to both of us is coming to town. Know anything about that?”

He laughed softly, the sound at once delightful and dreadful. Something that evil shouldn’t sound so good. “Someone told you about Max Carlyle, I take it?”

“Yeah. Who is he?”

“Not someone to discuss over the phone. I will tell you everything you need to know if you meet with me.”

Uh-oh. “You know what, this was a mistake. Never mind, I’ll figure it out myself.”

Before he could say anything, I ended the call and turned the cell off. Vampires were manipulative bastards, Royce worst of all. He made no secret of his interest in me despite knowing I had a boyfriend. Even worse, Royce had blackmailed me into signing one of those contracts that made it legal for him to drink my blood, turn me into a vampire, or even murder me with no consequences. All fabulous reasons to keep him as far away from me as possible.

The only good thing about that contract was that, due to the way it was worded, I could also hurt or kill him if it came down to it. My partner Sara had helped see to that. The only problem was that I wasn’t nearly confident enough that I could hurt or kill him without some help from outside sources. I suppose I shouldn’t complain, though. Most contracts didn’t offer that luxury, leaving the signed human stuck in the crappy position of facing death–or worse–at the hands of their host. If they tried to fight back when they decided they didn’t want to play the part of midnight snack anymore, they could look forward to some jail time and a hefty fine.

Some people (read: anyone but me) would love to be in the position I’m in, seeing as how Alec Royce is one of the most high-profile vampires in the United States. He’s got a power base that extends through most of New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Any vampire within his territory is required to get his permission to do so much as blow their nose. Okay, maybe not to that extent, but they were supposed to get his permission to hunt outside their territory, turn anyone else into a vampire, or do anything that might be construed as expanding their own power bases. He also oversaw all purchases or sales of buildings, land, or other valuable properties. Not to mention he owned a string of the hottest nightclubs and restaurants in the city. There were probably other businesses he dipped his fingers into, but publicly he was known for the clubs and eateries.

Royce even posted a calendar on his Web site of his scheduled appearances at his various establishments. Yes, a vampire celebrity with a Web site, what a novelty. When I first met him, I’d used that as a tool to figure out where to find him. These days, I also used it to figure out where not to be when I needed to check out the club scene in search of cheating lovers or shady business partners.

Some of the crazies like Jack the White Hat probably used it to find ways to corner or hurt him. The police have done more to protect the Others in the last few years, cracking down on the overzealous groups like the White Hats. In addition, Royce and a few other supernaturals had slapped lawsuits on those who discriminated against or attacked them, further curbing such delightful White Hat activities as burning down known Other establishments and hangouts, riots, beatings, even murder. That didn’t stop all of them, of course, but things were starting to settle down and the anti-Other crowd was beginning to look worse than the creatures they hated so much.

Sometimes the Others gave the general human populace good reason to be afraid of them. Despite their nature, they had rights now, and could walk the street like anyone else, but having legal citizenship didn’t do a thing to change the fact that Weres and vampires and even magi were monsters straight out of fairy tales. Weres could tear you apart bare-handed, even when they weren’t shifted. Vampires survived by drinking blood. Magi could twist and bend reality to their whims.

None of those were human traits, and even when you did your best to put those things aside, they would always be dangerous and inhuman.

Six months earlier, I’d seen firsthand how horrifically inhuman they were. I would carry scars across my chest and stomach until the day I die thanks to fighting with a crazy sorcerer, his bitch of a vampire girlfriend, the leader of the Moonwalker tribe, and last but certainly not least, Alec Royce.

I did not want to deal with other supernaturals. It was more than the scars left behind from my last up-close and personal experience. These things are scary. Some of them enjoy eating people. You don’t fool around with monsters like that voluntarily unless you know you’ll come out on top. Even then, your judgment would be questionable, at least in my book.

With those thoughts in mind, it no longer felt like such a great idea to be in my office all by myself after hours. Deciding the rest of my work could wait until Monday, I scooped up the Pryce paperwork, tucked it all back in its file, and tossed it into my pending basket on the corner of my desk. There were other businesses in the building, but they were mostly marketing firms and dentist offices, and I doubted anyone else was here this late on a Friday.

Grabbing my purse, cell, and keys, I turned off all the lights, set the alarm, and headed down to my car. Once in the parking lot, huddling in my jacket against the chill autumn wind, I thought about Chaz. He was my boyfriend, yes, but he was also a Were. Did I really want to have a werewolf alone with me in my apartment after tonight?

Yes. Yes I did. Unlike a human, Chaz had kept me safe from some threats that were too much for a deadbolt or a burglar alarm to keep out. There were some perks to having a monster on your side.

Not that I’d ever call him a monster to his face.

No matter how well behaved he might be, I knew it was there. I’d seen it. Touched it. Rolled my fingers through the fur, felt the weight of that not-man, not-wolf body. Known that, if not for his control over the pack he led, I’d have been nothing more than food to the rest of them. I’d also watched him fight another shifted Were, one much bigger and scarier than he was, keeping it away from me long enough to save everyone’s ass.

Chaz had also been useful in tracking down some of my clients’ marks. After the showdown against David Borowsky and his band of enslaved Weres made the news, a whole bunch of Others contacted H&W seeking our services. Sara and I decided we’d take the work, as long as it didn’t look too risky, unlike the majority of PI firms who won’t touch anything Other-related. I don’t have as much of an issue helping Weres and magi as I used to, though vampires still go to the back of the line. And for the most part, I don’t socialize with Others, since I still consider the majority of them scarier than Michael Myers with a machete and a grudge.

Chaz is the exception to my “keep the hell away from anything with fur or fangs” policy. Since he’d saved my life, it was hard to think of him as a bad guy. And we’d dated before, until he revealed what he was after we’d been together four or five months, and I freaked out and dumped him. This was admittedly a stupid move on my part. I came to realize this when I finally saw past my own blind idiocy that he cared about me and was showing me he trusted me with knowing what he was. Of course, it took him rescuing me, and helping me save Sara from the clutches of a mad sorcerer, to bring me around, but hey, at least I saw past the fur. Right?

We weren’t contracted. I refused to sign the papers that opened me up to being changed into a werewolf. It also meant we couldn’t do the nasty, but that didn’t bug me so much. Chaz hasn’t been brave enough to bring the subject up again, and I was happy to put off making a decision that involved the possibility of me being turned into an Other for as long as possible.

Contracts were all that saved humans from indiscriminately being eaten or injured by Others. The laws governing the wording of the contracts also made it abundantly clear that no Other was to chance turning a human, accidentally or otherwise, into one of their own. Given the passions attendant to things like sex and feeding, it prevented any Other from getting intimate with a human until they had all their legal ducks in a row.

In other words, Chaz and I might hug or kiss each other, but if we were going to do the horizontal tango, it would require a far greater commitment to him than I was willing to give at the moment. Dating was one thing–the kind of courage it would take to put my life in his hands quite another.

After mulling all this over, I realized that Chaz might know something about this Max Carlyle guy. He didn’t speak of it often but I knew he kept on top of the supernatural community’s secret goings-on. I figured I’d ask him about it when he came by later that night.

The whole ride home, I wondered who this Max person was, and what he wanted with me. Also, why did Jack care so much about me? Even though my business would be a great front for the mostly illegal activities of the White Hats, it didn’t explain why he kept pestering me or why he considered me such a threat. What connection did he have with Max Carlyle, if any? What was the connection between this newcomer and Alec Royce?

None of these questions could be answered easily, which didn’t improve my mood. By the time I pulled into my parking space at home, I’d resolved that tonight was going to be a stress-free evening with my boyfriend and that I’d worry about it all tomorrow.