“Where are you?” Ari asked.
“I can meet you somewhere,” was the response.
Which meant she was calling from her nest. Whatever their sleeping abode—apartment, cave, or crypt—vampires never revealed the home address for a logical reason: sleeping vamps were defenseless to attack. It was a rule so deeply ingrained that Rita had followed her instincts even in a crisis. They agreed on Maurie’s Bar in an hour.
An unhappy Rita was still slutty. The yellow silk pants and matching top left nothing to the imagination. Ari rather liked the boots, but not in vivid lime green. A neck scarf, color-coded to the boots, completed the eye-popping outfit. Rita’s face was deeply shadowed; lines creased her forehead; her shoulders slumped. A neglected drink stood on the table. Ari cringed. This wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.
Ari pulled out a chair. “Rita?”
The vampire looked up. “I called his friends again. While I was waiting,” she said in a monotone. “Still no show.”
“Well, that’s good you checked. Now, let’s see if I’ve got this right. You met Gordon, another vampire, right?” Rita bobbed her head. “Two weeks ago, and…”
“No, months ago. We hooked up two weeks ago.”
“So when did you last see him?”
“Friday. Well, Saturday morning, I guess. He left just before dawn. But he never got home. I didn’t know that, until Saturday night.” She looked at Ari. “Someone snatched him.”
Or staked him, Ari thought. Only something drastic would keep a vampire from the safety of his nest when the sun rose. “What makes you so sure someone took him? Couldn’t it be an accident or a fight, maybe?”
Rita started shaking her head before Ari finished. “Uh-uh. It’s just like the other vamp. The wolves got him.” Rita shivered.
“What other vamp?” Ari demanded, leaning forward. “Are you talking about Marcus? Do you know what happened to him?”
Rita nodded eagerly. “Gordon told me. Killer wolves are using voodoo to capture vampires. And making them slaves. Now they’ve got Gordon too,” Rita wailed.
Ari tried to sort out the grains of truth. She suspected the tale had grown with the retelling. “Where did Gordon hear this?”
“His nest mates told him.” Rita was positive on this part. “Two nestlings saw it happen. The wolves were after him, and Marcus never got home. Just like Gordon,” she whispered, her eyes round.
“What wolves? Where?”
Rita’s mouth turned down. “I don’t know.”
As Ari absorbed this unforeseen answer to Marcus’s disappearance, she fired off follow up questions, but the young vamp had told all she knew. “What did Andreas say about this?”
Rita ducked her head. “Nobody told him. Bad things have been happening. Andreas could be part of it. We were afraid somebody else might disappear if he thought they knew too much.” Confusion deepened the lines of Rita’s face. “Gordon said to keep my mouth shut. But that was before…” She stopped, swallowed hard, and finished in a rush. “But I’m telling you. I have to trust someone.”
In a way, Ari was flattered. Vampires didn’t trust easily, and Rita’s faith in her was rather touching. But Ari wasn’t sure she could live up to the expectations. If Molyneux’s wolves were behind this, Gordon and Marcus were probably dead.
They talked awhile longer; mostly Rita talked, about Gordon. Ari sipped a glass of seltzer, her head only half in the conversation. Why would anyone kidnap vampires? And almost as interesting, how would they even do that?
She stole a glance at Rita. Having unburdened herself, turned over the problem, the vampire was sitting a little straighter, sipping her drink. She’d quit sniveling and had noticed the cute guy who’d walked in the door. It was a distinct improvement in attitude, and Ari figured it was a good time to leave.
On the walk home, she considered her best course of action. Should she call Andreas and tell him what she’d heard? He was worried about Marcus. On the other hand, she didn’t owe him anything. He didn’t trust her, might not even believe what she said. And the potential fallout of repeating Rita’s story was something to think about. She didn’t want to set the vampires against the wolves. Not without proof. For the present, she’d keep the information close, confined to a select number of people. Which did not include Andreas.
A twig snapped, and Ari spun into a crouch.
“Who’s there?” Her eyes searched both sides of the street. She’d been aware of the faint smell of wolf for five or ten minutes but not close enough to be alarming. She’d assumed it was a passing stranger. Now, she wasn’t so sure. When no one answered, she walked on home. Maybe it was nothing, but she vowed to be more alert in the coming days.
Ari knew Rita’s story might be another example of the paranoia sweeping the Otherworld community, but she alerted Martin and Steffan to the rumors. They’d heard nothing but agreed to ask their usual sources.
Ari nosed around Olde Town for two days on her own, talking with barkeeps, listening to chatter. She haunted the public vampire hangouts. Ari kept her questions casual, answers vague, not wanting to add fuel to new or existing rumors. She put out the story that she had important information for Gordon, that she wanted to speak to him or anyone who could deliver a message to him. She hoped she’d turn up a nest mate, but no one responded. It had been a long shot; the vampires rarely volunteered to talk with authorities. She didn’t have the option of knocking on his door. Even if Gordon had a door, she’d never find the vampire’s hidden base on her own. Besides, even she wasn’t reckless enough to enter a private vamp nest alone.
By the third unsuccessful afternoon, she admitted she needed help. Vampire help. And this was beyond Rita’s pay grade. Ari swallowed her pride or her fears, whichever was dominant at the moment, and called the club. Andreas was her best bet. He had a vested interest in any outcome that might produce Marcus.
The woman who answered the phone said she’d have to see if Andreas was around. Ari gave her name and waited to see what he would do. He didn’t leave her dangling for long. Within seconds, the voice returned stating he wasn’t available.
Ari considered her response and left a message. “Tell him I have news of Marcus.” She wasn’t above using bait.
Five minutes later, her cell rang.
“You told me you knew nothing about Marcus,” he said without preamble. He was annoyed. Even annoyed, his voice sounded good.
“That was then,” Ari said, nerves making her flippant, “this is now.”
“Do you actually know anything useful?” he asked, his tone impatient, suspicious.
“Yes, but I won’t discuss it on the phone. I want to meet.”
“Why? I believe you told me to stay away from you.”
Hmm, yes, she had. And apparently she’d pricked his male pride. He didn’t intend to be agreeable about this. So, she told him the truth. “Yeah, well, something’s come up. And I want you to hear me out without the option of hanging up.”
He sighed. “Another scheme, madam witch?”
“Information. And a proposition,” she countered.
“Could you possibly be more cryptic?”
“Probably.” A chuckle escaped her. “But I’m not going to tell you anything else until we meet.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” He paused while he seemed to be thinking it over. “Come to the club tonight. We can talk between sets, if that suits you.”
She agreed and hung up. She knew he’d be singing, and she needed more than a few minutes to explain her plan—and a lot of convincing after that—but it was a start. And it couldn’t hurt to put her best foot forward. That would take prep work.
Ari begged and pleaded shamelessly. Claris hated the whole idea. She didn’t want Ari to go to the club alone. Definitely not after a makeover. She put the temptation of vampires in the same category as teasing venomous snakes. Probably a good analogy, but Ari didn’t want to seduce him, just get his attention. They wasted an hour arguing. When Claris realized Ari wouldn’t change her mind, she caved.
Ari lugged seven outfits from her apartment to Claris’s kitchen. Some had never been worn. Most were things that had caught her eye, but the chance to wear them had never come up. Claris tried to reject them all. Too short, too tight, too red, too revealing. In the end, they matched a white, silky blouse with black pants, fitted over the hips and ending in flowing legs. Dressy but not too formal. With the addition of a silver chain belt, matching earrings, and black strappy heels that added four inches, the outfit was complete. Claris objected to the low neckline but admitted the overall look was rather striking.
The controversial decisions made, Claris turned her expertise to hair and makeup. When she stepped back, Ari snatched the mirror and hardly recognized the cascade of loose blonde curls.
“Are you sure?” Ari asked. She’d never tried the curly routine before. Not like this.
“Oh yes.” Claris laughed. “I almost feel sorry for Andreas. How’s he going to say no to that face?”
Ari knew her best friend was biased, but the effect wasn’t bad. She studied her reflection again.
“Do you know what you’re doing, girl?”
She sure hoped so.
Chapter Sixteen
Ari timed her arrival at Club Dintero for late in the evening, nearly 11:00 p.m. She hoped it would allow more time for conversation if the dinner crowd had cleared, but people were still in line at the door. Full house. For a moment she wondered if she’d be turned away. Then the doorman nodded and motioned for her to bypass the line.
As soon as she stepped inside, the magic touched her. The five piece band was good, but Andreas’s voice dominated the candlelit room, holding the rapt attention of nearly 300 silent diners. Ari had barely noticed the audience before an irresistible urge drew her gaze toward the stage. A single spotlight framed Andreas’s commanding figure. Solid black, from the silk scarf knotted at his neck, to the full length Armani suit jacket that fell to his knees, to the black shirt, vest, and pants. Temptation incarnate. His feet were planted apart, confidence and mastery in every line of his body. The haunting melody was in Italian. Even without translation, it captured the mind.
