Her hopes were futile. They stepped off the sidewalk, blocking her path.
“Hey, babe, you want to earn a few bucks?” asked the first drunk-looking guy, sporting a dirty ponytail. He rotated his pelvis.
She fought the urge to grab the slimeball by his dirty ponytail and give him a couple of root-pulling whirls, then toss his ass back across the street. Instead, she moved to the other side of the sidewalk.
See, Burnett, she thought, I can control myself.
It wasn’t just about kicking butt.
“I’m ignoring this,” Della muttered, assuring herself and Kylie, in case the protector felt the need to kick ass.
The two thugs made a few more rude comments, but they didn’t follow her. Or touch her. For which she was grateful, because their sour smell still polluted the air.
She passed a liquor store and pawnshop before getting to the funeral home. The white brick building looked tired, and the sign reading ROSEMOUNT FUNERAL HOME needed a fresh coat of paint. Gazing around, she realized the whole neighborhood needed a makeover.
As she neared the front door, she recalled her daddy complaining that his sister had chosen this place to have Chan’s funeral service. But had her aunt chosen it? Della didn’t have a clue how it worked when someone faked their own death.
Hopefully in a matter of minutes she’d have answers. She pushed open the door, holding it wide a second so Kylie and Miranda could walk in, too.
The smell in the funeral home stung her nose. Formaldehyde? Wasn’t that what they used on bodies? She took another deep sniff to see who might be here, but the first odor prohibited her from catching any other traces.
Could that be intentional? She pushed that thought aside and glanced around.
The light was low, making everything appear gray and heavy. She cut her eyes left and right, noting the not-so-polished wood floors and unmanned desk, adorned with a vase of wilted flowers.
Tension pulled at her shoulders. She tried not to focus on the drab interior. What she sought was a geezer vampire. She didn’t spot one. She didn’t spot anyone.
She did a complete turn, noting two doors leading out of the entry. Was anyone here? Realizing there were probably dead people tucked away in coffins in the back made her skin prickle. She recalled the funeral of the murdered girl she’d attended just a few days ago. Her vow to find Loraine’s killer wasn’t null, just …
“Can I help you?” The deep, annoyed-sounding voice came out of nowhere, and she almost jumped.
Damn it. Why hadn’t she heard him approach? Her hearing must be on the fritz again. She turned and tried to mask the panic on her face. The figure loomed in one of the doorways. And there was a lot of figure to loom.
The giant of a man, or giant of a vampire, wasn’t anywhere near geezer status. Dark-haired and olive-skinned, he reminded her of Burnett, a little older but just as menacing.
She saw him checking her pattern. His left brow arched slightly and he almost smiled as if happy to see her. The tension in her stomach kicked up a notch.
“Actually, I was looking for the owner.”
“And you’ve found him.”
“I thought … The website showed—”
“My stepfather recently died.” He didn’t sound upset.
“Then in that case … Yes. You can help me.” Her heart raced. It was decision time. Ask him outright for information, or ask questions as if interested in faking her own death.
“I was … my cousin’s funeral service was held here.”
“Was it?” he asked.
He didn’t look like the type to hand over information.
“My cousin wasn’t really dead,” she said.
The six-foot-plus vamp nodded. “I’m assuming you’re looking to follow in his footsteps? How long have you been turned?”
“I’ve considered faking my own death,” she answered, thankful it was the truth. But she neglected answering his second question.
“I also had an uncle whose service you held … years ago.”
“The strand of virus you carry must be strong,” he stated.
“I was hoping to find my family. Do you … do you keep records?”
“Me? Not so much. But my stepfather—God rest his weak do-gooder soul—was a stickler for such.” His cold smile told her just how much he cared about his stepfather. “Of course, this is no longer his business. The rules and such have changed.”
“Do you still have his records?” she asked.
“Lucky for you I haven’t gotten around to tossing them out yet. But, as I said, this isn’t my stepfather’s business anymore. I … don’t offer my services for free. I offer fresh turns at a new life. And in return I ask for a few years of their service to either myself or one of my clients who are in need of various domestics.”
“Domestics?” she asked, thinking “slavery” sounded like a better term. Or hadn’t this kind of thing happened in the past and they called them indentured servants?
His gaze moved over her with the same kind of disgusting look as the drunk creeps on the street. She had a feeling she knew what kind of services he’d expect.
“If you’d like, we can go back to my office and discuss the legalities of the contract.” He waved for her to follow him.
“There’s a contract?” She didn’t move, unsure going back with him was wise. Then again, she did need to see those files. Decisions, decisions.
“Oh, yes. We are careful not to break any laws that might bring us trouble. Being a fresh turn, you may not know it, but there are officials who monitor supernaturals. Idiots who think we should be registered and regulated.”
Yeah, I kinda help those idiots out. “Really?” she asked, not lying again. But too bad about him not wanting trouble. As soon as she left here, she was contacting Burnett and the FRU about this little operation. He’d read her the riot act for coming here, but she had a feeling the riot act would be worth it. Her gut told her this guy needed to be stopped.
She felt someone walk behind her. And not Kylie or Miranda. The heavy footsteps told her it was someone big. She really needed her hearing to stop going out on her so she’d be better prepared to deal with heavy-footed surprises.
“Why don’t we do as Mr. Anthony suggested and follow him?” The guy behind gave Della a nudge—a strong one. One that left a strong suspicion that signing that contract wasn’t really a choice.
She took the next few steps, then hesitated, praying Kylie and Miranda would move with her. When the big dude poked her again, she continued following Mr. Anthony.