Dark Pact Page 2

  “How?”

  He looked down, away from me. “It sounds crazy to even think it.” He seemed stuck as to his choice for words.

  “No judgement, Kel. Just tell me.”

  “Lavina was—is—a vampire.”

  I sat back. I hadn’t been expecting that but given my summer so far, I wasn’t entirely surprised. Spending time in Deadwood, learning about my family history, meeting my too many times great-grandfather (Doc Holliday, the Doc Holliday, if you please!), and any number of other things that happened during the visit to Deadwood left me less ready to clutch my pearls about the unusual than I’d been earlier in the year.

  “Okay,” I said. “Is that the bad thing that brings you here?”

  Kel looked sheepish. “No, it’s great—really great, honestly. I like her a lot.” He stopped, taking another bite of the pie. “This is delicious,” he said again with his mouth full.

  Good grief. I was going to have to pry this out of him. “So what’s the problem, Kel?” I asked.

  “She got into an argument with another vampire, and now that vampire is dead.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “They think I did it!” Kel burst out, leaning forward. He set his plate on my desk. “They took Lavina away to talk to her two days ago, and then last night, three of them showed up at my door and told me I had a week to get my affairs in order and then I was coming with them to stand trial.”

  “What?” This didn’t make sense. It was a huge leap to sleeping with a vampire to becoming a murderer. Not to mention, Kel was—used to be--one of the nicest guys I’d ever met. He was certainly the kindest guy in the band, and I’d been engaged to one of the other guys. Derek had been wonderful, but he wasn’t kind like Kel was. Well, like Kel had been. Once Derek died—well, people showed different sides of themselves in death.

  “Why do they think you did it?” I asked.

  “There’s a law against killing other vampires. If you’re found guilty, you end up put outside in the daytime, or something like that.”

  Part of me was just astounded by the fact that I was having this conversation. The practical part of me said, “So they figure Lavina got you, through her feminine wiles, to do her dirty work?”

  He nodded. “That’s the gist of it. I didn’t do this, Deana! You know me!” He picked up the plate again, angrily spearing the pie.

  “I did,” I said quietly.

  He had the grace to look up at me, the fork halfway to his mouth, ashamed. He didn’t say anything. What could he say? He was a dick to me when Derek died, and he knew it. He knew I knew it. The fact that I was sitting here talking to him was more of a testament to my feelings for Derek than it was for Kel.

  “Look, Deana, I’m sorry—”

  I held up a hand to cut off any statements of regret or repentance. They were forced by the situation and empty. “Please don’t insult either one of us. Tell me what you want me to do for you, and I’ll tell you if I can manage it, and what the price will be.”

  He paled under his complexion, but he took a breath, and spoke. “I want you to find out who did this. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t doing anything other than dating a vampire who got into a dust up with another one. That’s the only thing I did. Lavina is hot, and sexy, and fun, and I really care about her, but I don’t want to die for going out with her.”

  “Why do you think I can do anything with this?” I asked quietly.

  “Because you’re the only person I know who does this kind of thing that I can tell the truth to. I’m desperate,” he said.

  “I figured,” I shot back. “How did you know I did this? I’ve only just opened.”

  “Look, if you can’t help me, just say so,” Kel got up. “I was hopeful when I saw your name online.”

  “I can,” I said quietly.

  “Are you just saying that? Because I didn’t have any idea all these kinds of, of people, existed until this year.” He took another bite of pie.

  I nodded, thinking it was amazing that this guy was here in my office, and we were having this sort of conversation while he ate. He was telling me he didn’t want to die while he snarfed down my baked goods. “I have connections. But it’s going to cost you.”

  His face took on a wary expression. “How much?”

  “Just one 1948 Indian Chief motorcycle, formerly the property of Derek Sinnful. If you haven’t sold it for parts by now,” I said.

  Kel sat down holding his plate tightly, his lips also tight.

  Why he hadn’t expected that when he called me, much less walked in here was beyond me, but it wasn’t my problem. Derek had never gotten around to changing his will, and in the will, which was five years old at the time, he’d given Kel everything. But in anticipation of our wedding, he rebuilt the Indian Chief for me, and it had our initials on it. Kel knew this. All he had to do was give me the Indian as Derek had intended.

  Instead, he told me that if Derek had wanted to change his will, he would have, and told me he wasn’t doing anything outside of what was specified in the will.

  He was right. This was Derek’s fault. Derek could have changed it. But he got everything—Derek’s stuff, his shares in the band, his place—all I wanted was the bike.

  And Kel, once the nicest guy I’d ever met, said no, and shut a door in my face. More than once.

  “Deana—”

  It was my turn to stand. “If you can’t manage the terms of what is agreeable to me, I’m sorry, Kel, but I won’t be able to take the job. I’ll wish you good luck.” I took a few steps around the desk.

  “I could die.”

  “My price is reasonable, given the market value,” I said, looking out the window. “And since the bike was personalized, that knocks down overall value.” These were all facts that Kel knew.

  “I sold it for parts.”

  “Then my fee will be one hundred thousand dollars, upfront,” I said.

  “What the hell? No way, Deana! You’re out of your fucking mind!”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “Sorry I can’t help you, Kel. And I am really sorry, because we were good friends at one point, and I don’t think you’re a horrible person. You’re just an asshole to me.” I crossed my arms and waited for him to leave. I could cry later. I wouldn’t do it in front of Kel Worthington. Not ever again.

  He strode to the door and slammed it behind him as he left. I did notice he took the pie with him. Perhaps the baking was a warning sign of what would be walking into my place. Something to think about. Later.

  Right now, I went to my desk and put my head down and cried like Derek had just died.

  When I went home that night, I was restless, missing my mom and Gran. Tonight, I was wishing they were here. But I couldn’t call them, couldn’t add on to their burden. They were trying to save their own lives.

  Well, I’d been willing to try and save a life, but he just wouldn’t let go of the bike. That was on Kel, no matter how guilty I was feeling. I stared at the television, not really watching it when the ring of the doorbell made me jump.

  I padded silently to the door. I opened it to find Kel standing under the porch light, hands in pockets. He looked up and saw me, and without saying a word, stretched his right hand out toward me.

  I held out my own hand, and he dropped a set of keys into it. “Meet me tomorrow at your office so I can give you all the information,” Kel said, his voice flat.

  “Title,” I said.

  He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to me. I took it.

  “I’m sorry, Deana. Sorrier than you know.”

  “So am I,” I said quietly.

  We stared at one another, and then he turned and walked away. I waited until I heard his car leave to go out to the garage.

  There in the light, was the Indian Chief. My Indian Chief. My bike, restored for me by Derek. Gleaming red, as it had been when Derek painted it. I walked over, and let my fingers trail along the leather seat, still stamped with the “DHS” that Derek had commiss
ioned for it. For what would have been my initials after we married.

  And on the gas tank, there it was. The bike was red, with black and chrome accents. But right there in pink and white and silver was a heart with two entwined ‘D’s’. For me and Derek.

  Kel hadn’t sold it for parts, or painted over it, or done anything other than kept it. And now, it was with me. I cried a little more as I ran my finger over the initials and the heart, remembering watching Derek paint it. It wasn’t perfect, but he wanted to do this one thing that made my bike special, as his gift to me. I’d loved it.

  I opened the garage and wheeled the bike in next to my FJ Toyota Land Cruiser, affectionately known as Baby. Now I had Baby and the Chief. As I closed the door, I watched as both of my babies disappeared from view.

  Then I went in and went to bed, dreaming of fangs gleaming in the dark all night long.

  Chapter Two

  I rode the Chief to work the next day, parking right in front of my office door. As soon as I was done meeting with Kel, I was going to get the new title and tag. I wasn’t wasting time with this.

  I’ll say this—Kel had taken care of her. She purred along exactly the way I’d remembered. Derek had laughed when I told him this was what I wanted, but he’d found one, and it was one of the most gorgeous things on two wheels I’d ever ridden. I loved my FJ Land Cruiser, but that was not ever going to be called smooth and gorgeous. The FJ was more of a beast, which I loved.

  The Chief was an indulgence, and I found that I was a little teary when I came into the office.

  About twenty minutes after I got there, Kel came in. “Didn’t waste any time, did you?” he asked dryly.

  “I’ve been waiting to ride her for a couple of years,” I said mildly, refusing to be drawn into an argument. “You’ve kept her nice.”

  “She’s beautiful,” Kel said behind me.

  I turned around to see him with a far less combative expression or demeanor than I expected. “She is,” I agreed.

  “Can I get some coffee?”

  “Go ahead,” I gestured at my coffee station. Neither of us spoke as he fixed himself a cup. I noted that his motions were jerky, and he looked tired, as though he hadn’t slept.

  He sat down across from me and took a large sip. “There’s still pie, too.”

  “Help yourself,” I said.

  He took another slice. Apparently, it really was his favorite. So. Baking urge equals someone coming into your life. Noted.

  “Okay,” I said, opening a file on my laptop. “Tell me everything I need to know.”

  “How do you have a connection?” he asked.

  It was a reasonable question. Not one that I wanted to answer, but reasonable. “Let’s just say, I’ve recently discovered I have some family in that sort of business,” I said.

  His brows drew together. “Vampires?”

  “Witches.”

  “Jesus. I wouldn’t have ever thought it,” he said. “Although your grandmother was always—” he stopped, seeing the look on my face. “Interesting.”

  “She still is,” I said calmly. “I’m not promising anything, Kel. If you’ve been around witches and vampires, you know that they operate differently than us,” I was talking out of my ass a little here. I didn’t know about anything other than the witches and demons I’d recently encountered. Oh, and necromancers. They were all a weird bunch, and that was putting it mildly. I figured vampires would fall somewhere on the ‘operate differently’ scale.

  “You can’t even imagine—well, maybe you can. It’s so different. Everything—the way they think, act—it’s totally different. And it’s exciting. Lavina is the most exciting woman I’ve ever dated. I met her through Phoebe, the witch I was dating.” He must have forgotten he’d told me this yesterday.

  “How did you manage to meet a witch?” I asked curiously.

  “She came to a show, and we had a couple of drinks, and then went to dinner,” he shrugged his shoulders. “All of a sudden, we were dating. It didn’t last long, but she was a lot of fun. She broke it off,” Kel added. “And then after I ran into Lavina, I got a call from from her, asking if I wanted to meet her one night.”

  “So you’ve been with her ever since?” I asked.

  He nodded as he swallowed the last bite of pie. “You don’t cheat on vampires. Not that I would, but they take being together seriously.”

  “Like she was going to bite you and make you a vampire seriously?” I asked.

  “No, not unless… well, no. I’ve heard of it, but we haven’t had that conversation. Which is fine. Anyway, Lavina comes home late one night, and she’s furious. I can tell. When I ask her what’s up, she said that Jessamine Cassidy was too damn full of herself, and she needed to think about other people.” He held up his hands. “That’s all I know. That’s the extent of it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “That can’t be all.”

  “It is. Four nights later, these two vampires came to my place, and told her she needed to come with them. She told me not to mention this to anyone, and then she left with them. She didn’t even put up a fight, and I’ve seen her fight. They scared her.” Kel took a breath. “Two nights later, they came for me, and there was a third vampire with them, a woman. Elizabeth. That was her name.”

  “Don’t any of these people have last names?”

  “Yeah, but they don’t matter. They all know each other.”

  “So what happened when the three vampires came to see you?”

  He shuddered. “They—Elizabeth, mainly—told me that I was being taken for the final death of Jessamine Cassidy, and I could come now, and plead my case, or fight, and they’d kill me right then, with no hearing.”

  “How is it you’re free now?” This didn’t make any sense.

  “I met with some guy, Alfredo—no, Alfonso Delgado, and I explained that I had no idea. He smiled and listened, and said, well, that’s all very nice, Mr. Worthington, but humans lie, and so unless you can prove that you had nothing to do with the disappearance of Jessamine, we’re going to serve justice. You have one week to collect your proof. And then they hustled me out of there, and took me back to my place.”

  “When was that?”

  “They brought me home right before I called you yesterday.”

  “So you have six days,” I said.

  He nodded.

  I stood up. “You need to go now. Go and call any and all of your friends who might have seen you on the night in question. What night, exactly, do they think you did this?”

  “May twenty-seventh,” Kel said.

  “All right. Go,” I made a shooing motion with my hand. “I can’t work with you hovering. I’ll call you tonight, and let you know what I’ve found. You need to make notes about who you talk to, got it? Remember, no promises. Take the pie with you, too.”

  “I know. But know if you don’t help me, I die.” Kel’s voice was flat.

  “I know,” I said. I stood, waiting.

  He stared at me for a moment, picked up the pie pan, and then swung himself to the door. This time he didn’t slam his way out like he had yesterday. That was improvement, I guess.

  I sat back down after he’d left. I’d need to call my aunts.

  “Hello?” My mom answered the phone.

  “Mom, hey—”

  “Deana! Honey, it’s so good to hear your voice!”

  “How’s it going with everything?” I asked.

  Mom sighed. “Well, it’s slow, but we’ve made progress. We—”

  “Mom, let me talk to one of the aunts.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well, the weird just walked in my door, and I think they can help me.”

  “Not there too? I thought we could contain it to just here,” Mom said. “Hang on, damn it. Daniella? Can you come and talk to Deana?”

  A shuffling on Mom’s end, and then I heard Daniella’s voice. She was the calmest of all three of my aunts. Deirdre had the temper, and Desdemona was the bad ass. I wou
ldn’t want to face off against any of them. They were fierce.

  “What’s up?” Daniella asked.

  “Who do you know that’s a vampire that will talk to me?” I asked. I explained my case from a high level, and then Daniella sighed.

  “Vampires are kind of a pain in the ass. They’re usually really proud, like big balls of ego and they talk too much. The older ones are a lot more formal, so if you talk to any of them, you need to remember that. Manners go a long way. Even you, with your witch ancestry, are still part human, so they will look on you as fairly unenlightened,” she finished.

  “One of the ravaging hordes?” I asked dryly.

  “Something like that,” Daniella said. “Let me check with Des—I think I know who to send you to.” She covered the receiver and I could hear her yelling.

  301 Pearl Street, the family home in Deadwood, was not usually a quiet place. I waited, hoping like hell this would have a chance at working. I might have been pissed as hell at Kel, but I didn’t want him to die. Not if he didn’t do anything that he should pay with his life for, and while he had been a complete asshole to me, I didn’t get murderer off him.

  My gut was usually right on, only giving me problems when I ignored it. When Kel had come in yesterday, I’d been thinking about how to manage forgiving him, and struggling. It had only been a bike. And then my anger had come roaring back.

  “Okay, you have something to write this down with?” Daniella asked.

  “Yeah, hang on,” I took down the information she gave me.

  “Email him. Do it right now. He’s got people that protect them during the day, so someone will read the message and give it to him tonight. Tell him we recommended that he speak with you, if he’s so inclined, and you’d really appreciate fifteen minutes of his time.”

  “What the hell am I going to ask him?” I asked. This was moving fast, and I felt like I was falling behind.

  “Ask him what the evidence is, who accuses your friend, and why they think Lavina would have done this. Those are the three things. Then maybe you can talk to the witnesses.”

  “Oh, great. More vampires.”

  “Carry your spell bags,” she said. We’d made all kinds of spell enhancing bags when I was in Deadwood—I called them the magic tea bags—and I’d been carrying them with me ever since. You shouted out a spell while you toss the bag and boom! Magic happens. At least, it’s supposed to. I’d never used them, outside of practicing with my aunts.