Lucifer (Vampires in America: The Vampire Wars Book 11) Page 11

  Lucifer was standing several feet away, looking around, studying the tiny living room. “How long, do you think?”

  “More than a few days. Weeks, probably.”

  “Fits the timeline. Murphy was taken…what two weeks ago?”

  She nodded. “Tonight’s the fifteenth night since he’s been gone.”

  “They’d have needed time to prepare wherever it is they’re keeping him, time to plan for the actual abduction. Let’s tear this place apart. I want anything that can give us a lead on where he goes, how he spends his time. If you find where he keeps his records—utility bills, that sort of thing—let me know. I’ll take that.”

  Eleanor started up the stairs, fuming inwardly at the implicit dismissal of her skills in Lucifer’s parting shot. Like she wouldn’t know what was important and what wasn’t. Did he think she’d gotten her job because of her looks? But by the time she reached the landing, she’d gotten over it. She doubted he’d meant anything by it. If only because he seemed barely aware she was with him tonight. Not that he thought he was alone. He knew there was another person with him, but that person had no particular identity. It wasn’t his Elle who was on the job with him. It wasn’t even Eleanor. It was just a person sent along to make his job easier.

  She sighed, and wondered how they could get past this. If they could get past it. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to. It had been easier to believe he was gone, forever out of her reach. To know now that she’d never had to lose him . . . it was almost too much to bear.

  A quick scan of the upstairs landing told her there were two bedrooms and a bathroom. She didn’t expect to find much. This was a vampire’s house, after all. He sure as hell didn’t sleep up here, and most vampires tended to maintain whatever was important to them in the same space where they slept. There were exceptions, naturally. A powerful vampire lord like Sophia had a huge house, with tons of space, and too many rooms to count. But while Sophia and Colin had many lovely possessions in the daytime parts of their house, the lady’s significant files and irreplaceable mementos were in a private office down in the basement. Colin had an office upstairs in the sunniest part . . .

  What she was seeing finally registered on Eleanor. Landry might not be sleeping up here, but someone else was. The largest bedroom was tidy, with the bed made, the room dusted, and the closet full of neatly pressed clothes that were hung in meticulous order by style and color. On the floor, the shoes were similarly organized on a double shoe shelf beneath the hanging clothes. Huh. The clothes and shoes all belonged to a man. She checked the shirt size, and then bent over to pick up a shoe and do the same. Frowning thoughtfully, she turned and started for the hallway, tossing the shoe back to the floor as an afterthought, and deriving no small amount of pleasure from messing up the compulsive neatness of the closet.

  She checked out the bathroom next, more to confirm her guess than anything else, and then pushed open the door of the second bedroom. It was completely empty, not even a bed—more evidence that she was on the right track.

  Hurrying downstairs, she found Lucifer sitting at a small desk in the kitchen. Every drawer was either standing open or had been dumped onto the floor, while Lucifer sat going through what looked like a bunch of old bills.

  Eleanor opened her mouth to announce her discovery upstairs, but he beat her to it.

  “Landry has a roommate,” he said absently, still flipping through paperwork. “Human, I’d guess.”

  She wrinkled her nose in irritation. Well, at least she could confirm that much. “Definitely human. He lives and sleeps upstairs.”

  Lucifer grunted an acknowledgment. “There must be a basement,” he said, abruptly throwing the paperwork back to the desk, ignoring the few pieces that slid to the floor. “Let’s find it.”

  THERE WERE ONLY so many places the stairs to a basement could be. Most houses followed a typical architectural pattern, especially tract houses like this one. Every vampire worth his salt knew them all, and that included Lucifer. And probably, he admitted grudgingly, Eleanor, too.

  They found the stairs in the first place they looked, behind a short, narrow door beneath the main staircase. He had to duck down to make it through the opening, and then paused to grab the piece of kitchen string that served as a light switch, hanging from a bare overhead bulb. The light barely reached the basement floor, but that didn’t bother him. He already knew a vampire lived here, at least part of the time. There was a distinct odor of old blood that told him the vampire was a messy eater. But it wasn’t strong enough to be anything more than that. They wouldn’t be finding any dead bodies down there, no decayed corpses.

  It was on his tongue to tell Eleanor to remain upstairs. Not because he thought there was anything dangerous in the basement, but for the very opposite reason. If there was danger here, it was more likely to walk through the front door, and it would be nice to have a timely warning.

  But he didn’t feel like explaining himself, or, frankly, like talking to her at all. At least no more than absolutely necessary. So he let her follow him downstairs, and did his best to ignore her, something made more difficult in the close quarters of the basement room, with the fresh soap scent of her skin filling the small space.

  He looked around. Unmade bed. Small refrigerator—he opened the door—with two stored bags of blood. He checked the date on the blood. It was nearly three weeks old, almost expired in terms of usefulness for a vampire. Or a human either, for that matter. Red blood cells were red blood cells, no matter who needed them.

  “The roommate’s a lot neater,” Eleanor said from behind him.

  Lucifer tilted his head curiously, and then scanned the room one more time, before spinning abruptly and sprinting upstairs. “I need to talk to the neighbors.”

  Eleanor followed. “Why? What did you find?”

  He ignored her and headed for the front door.

  “Lucifer!” she shouted. “Stop. Look, I know you’re pissed at me—”

  He spun back to face her so swiftly that she stumbled back and had to grab the stair bannister.

  “Then you know nothing,” he said flatly, then turned around and yanked the front door open. Crossing the porch, he jumped down into the scruffy front yard, and paused to examine the houses up and down the street.

  “Lucifer,” Eleanor persisted.

  “Quiet,” he snapped. She sucked in an outraged breath, but before she could say anything, he explained. “I’m listening.”

  Turning his head first one way, and then the next, he studied each house in turn. “Landry doesn’t have a roommate,” he explained finally, having gotten what he wanted from his perusal of the neighborhood. “He has a lover. Two men were having regular sex in Landry’s bed in the basement. As you noted, the room was a mess, and the sheets were far from fresh. And there were no other scents in the house.”

  Eleanor frowned. “Then he’s—”

  “Gay, yes.” He met her eyes at last. “Is that a problem for you?” he asked coolly.

  “Of course, not. I was just—”

  “Good. We need to talk to the neighbors. At least one of them will have noticed the comings and goings here. You take the house across the street, two doors down, the one with the older mini-van in the driveway. I’ll take the neighbors to either side.”

  She sighed noisily. “What am I looking for?”

  He gave her a slightly disbelieving look. “Anything that will lead us to the identity of the lover. He’ll know where Landry is. And if we can’t find him, then we need his family, or someone who can contact him.”

  “You think the neighbors will have that?”

  “Probably not directly, and probably not all from the same person. But we should get enough for me to piece it together.”

  Her lips tightened in irritation. He remembered that expression well. Once upon a time, he’d h
ave gentled the irritation away, kissing her mouth, until her lips opened, once more soft and full and welcoming.

  He blinked. But no longer.

  “Stay in touch,” he growled. “Landry might have a spy in one of these houses.”

  He waited until Eleanor stormed off toward the house he’d assigned her, probably still pissed at his suggestion that he’d be the one to piece it together. Too bad. He’d spoken only the truth. Eleanor was an intelligent woman, no doubt of that. But there was a reason he was Aden’s premier hunter, the same reason he’d been put in charge of this hunt.

  Turning in the opposite direction, he put on his most friendly, human face, and approached the neighbor’s porch. It was almost a duplicate of the one on Landry’s house, except in much better repair. His knock was answered by a man with a lit cigarette in his mouth and a beer in one hand. As he opened the door, he used his beer hand to pull the cigarette from his mouth, holding both in the same hand while he looked Lucifer over.

  Speaking French, and making no attempt to disguise his Cajun roots, Lucifer smiled and said, “I’m sorry to bother you. My name’s Lewis, I’m Chase’s cousin, and—”

  “Who?” the man interrupted.

  Lucifer put a little push behind his next words. “Chase Landry. Your neighbor.”

  “You want to talk to my wife,” the man said, speaking Quebec French. “Come in.”

  Lucifer’s smile broadened into a grin. That had been too easy. He couldn’t compel an invitation, but he could make himself seem invite-able. “You’re very kind,” he murmured and, having been invited, entered the house. It smelled of grease and cooked food, something he couldn’t identify. It had been too long since he’d eaten human food.

  His host gestured Lucifer into a small sitting room, where a fire burned steadily on a brick hearth, and then took a step down the hallway and called out, “Suzette!”

  A plump woman appeared in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. “Who is it?” she asked, speaking the same Quebecois as her husband.

  “He’s asking about that creature next door. The vampire.”

  “Chase? What does he want with Chase?”

  Lucifer moved to where the woman could see him. He was a little surprised that the couple knew Chase was a vampire, but Suzette seemed like the kind of neighbor who knew everything about everyone. And it certainly didn’t seem to have dampened whatever friendship she had with Chase.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he said, touching her thoughts with his power as easily as he had her husband’s. It was second nature to use his talent; it took more effort not to use it. “I’m Chase’s cousin, Louis. He was expecting me, but there’s no one home. Have you seen—?”

  “Ah,” Suzette exclaimed, coming down the hall with a warm smile. “Louis, of course. Chase mentioned you.”

  He hadn’t, of course, but Lucifer needed information from the woman, and she wasn’t going to give out much to a perfect stranger.

  “Come, sit,” she encouraged, guiding him into the room with a light touch on his arm. “I’m surprised Chase isn’t here to greet you. He was so looking forward to your visit.”

  “Well, I arrived a day early, I’m afraid. We drove, and my girlfriend has a heavy foot,” he added, laughing.

  The two humans both laughed far harder than the comment deserved. Lucifer had neither the time nor the inclination to fine-tune the manipulation of their thoughts.

  “I wonder,” he said, “do you know where I might find him? I know he works from home, but is there a bar or—”

  “You’ll want the Loon,” Suzette offered right away. “Aubert works there most evenings. It’s where they met.”

  “Of course, I should have thought of that. Is it nearby?”

  “Yes, yes, down the block,” she gestured. “Turn right and it’s just there. Not half a kilometer.”

  Lucifer bestowed his warmest smile on the couple. “Thank you. We’ll be on our way, then.”

  “Would you like some dinner first?” Suzette said quickly. “We have plenty.”

  Lucifer eyed the woman, with her generous bosom and broad hips, and her husband’s fleshy form. They would indeed have plenty to offer a hungry vampire. But Lucifer preferred not to eat where he hunted. Which made no sense in human terms, but was perfectly logical to him.

  “You’re very kind, but we’ve had dinner, and I’m keeping you from yours.” He released their minds with a gentle suggestion, and made his way to the door. “Good evening.”

  The air was cold after Suzette’s warm, cooking-scented home, and he zipped his leather jacket while glancing down the block to where Eleanor was making her way back to him.

  “Anything?” he asked, remembering to keep his words strictly businesslike.

  She shook her head. “They’ve seen him come and go, and another man, too—the boyfriend I assume—but they don’t know anything else. They were reluctant to talk. It’s obvious they keep tabs on the neighborhood, but they’re afraid of Landry.”

  “They know he’s a vampire?”

  “No. Not that I could tell,” she amended. “You might have gotten more. But I got the impression he’s a bit of a bully.”

  Lucifer shrugged. “Suzette likes him well enough, and she does know he’s a vamp.”

  “Who’s Suzette?”

  “The neighbor. Let’s get in the truck. It’s cold out here.”

  “You still don’t like the cold,” she commented, with a smile that quickly faded, as if she’d suddenly remembered that they weren’t being friendly at the moment.

  Lucifer had no comment. He didn’t like cold. His bones still remembered the heat of his Sicilian home. But once Aden had taken the Midwest and moved to Chicago, he’d been forced to accept frigid weather. Not that it would slow him down any.

  “Where are we going?” Eleanor asked, when he’d started the SUV and done a quick U-turn in the direction Suzette had indicated.

  “Chase’s friend tends bar down the street. I have questions.”

  He caught the worried glance she sent him. It pissed him off. She was treating him like some sort of rapist who scoured people’s brains for fun and didn’t care what damage he caused, when the truth was far different. He wasn’t a brute, he was a fucking artist. The humans he manipulated never knew he’d been there, and the only time he inflicted actual harm was when he wanted to. He did the same with vampires. In fact, he was the only person he knew who could manipulate a vampire’s mind as easily as a human’s. It was one of the reasons Aden had brought him on in the first place.

  “What’s it called?” Eleanor asked, studying each building as they passed.

  “The Loon.” Lucifer glanced ahead, and saw a spot-lit sign featuring a black and white bird that he guessed was meant to be a loon. “There.”

  He swung into the parking lot a minute later. It wasn’t crowded on this Sunday night, which was just as well. He’d told Suzette he wasn’t hungry, but that wasn’t true. He hadn’t fed since leaving Chicago, and he was feeling the pinch. He wasn’t a baby vamp who had to eat every night, but he wasn’t one of the old-timers either. His vampiric power was far stronger than most, which let him go longer between feedings, but he still had to eat regularly. Whether Landry’s friend was there tonight or not, maybe Lucifer could find a willing female and top off.

  That thought had him glancing at Eleanor for some stupid reason, almost as if he felt guilty for thinking about spending some quality time in a dark corner with a succulent woman. Even if he and Eleanor had been more than friends—as if they were friends now, which so wasn’t the case—he would have had to feed from a human. Vampires could be lovers, and while the euphoric in each other’s blood could add to the sexual high, their blood wasn’t food. They couldn’t feed each other. The image flashed in Lucifer’s mind of him and Eleanor sharing
a willing human, feeding together, and then fucking their brains out, while still high on the human’s blood. His cock was almost instantly hard, uncomfortably hard in his tight jeans.

  Fuck. He shoved the SUV’s door open, welcoming the rush of cold air that cooled his imagination and his cock.

  “Who’re we looking for?”

  Lucifer hadn’t noticed Eleanor exiting the vehicle, which wasn’t good. He had to get his head in the game.

  “His name’s Aubert. No last name, but he tends bar, so he should be easy to find.”

  “Who’s doing the talking?”

  He gave her a disbelieving look, which thankfully she didn’t see. Obviously, he’d be taking the lead. Eleanor was strong, but whatever talent her vampire transition had bestowed, it hadn’t included anything like his ability for telepathy and manipulation. On the other hand, he’d already seen how difficult she could be when she thought he wasn’t taking her seriously.

  “I probably should,” he suggested, which was about as diplomatic as he could get. “If he’s not here, we’ll need a phone number or some other way of contacting him, and I doubt they’ll give that out lightly.”

  “Right.”

  He gave her the benefit of the doubt. She might have been trying to keep her disapproval out of that one word. But she didn’t succeed. She didn’t approve of the way he got into people’s heads.

  The bar was surprisingly full for a Sunday night, and had the feel of a neighborhood joint. Several people eyed them suspiciously as they wove around the crowded tables and took a pair of open bar stools.

  “What can I get you?” a blond bartender asked, speaking the by-now familiar Quebecois as he slapped a pair of coasters down in front of them.

  What Lucifer wanted was a beer, but he didn’t know any of the Canadian brands. He eyed the whiskeys ranged along a shelf on the back counter. “Tangle Ridge,” he said, selecting the only one he recognized. The only decent one anyway. “Double shot, neat. Ice water on the side.”