Steffan cleared his throat in disbelief, and Ari laughed.
“I promise. I’ll try,” she repeated. And maybe she would. Someday. When she had the time to let her hair down.
She returned to the street, climbed into her dark green Mini Cooper, and gave the car a friendly pat before starting the engine. After rescuing the car from a salvage lot, Ari had bonded with Mini during restoration. Now when something bugged Ari, she often went to the garage just to talk it over. Not that the car talked back. That was the best part. Mini just listened.
So as Ari drove home, she and Mini hashed it over. And inspiration came to her. The Canadian werewolves hung out at vampire clubs. With a little help from Victor or Andreas…if she could talk one of them into helping her.
The idea had gained momentum by the time Ari reached home. On impulse she dialed the club to leave a message. It was still too early for the vampires, but she now had two reasons to talk with them. When a female voice answered, she asked to leave a message for Victor or Andreas.
She nearly dropped the phone when an unmistakable voice came on the line.
“This is Andreas. How may I be of service?” Suave, charming, magic tamped down.
“Hi,” she said, a little tongue-tied with this unexpected development. They hadn’t parted on such good terms. A little prep time for this conversation would have been nice. “This is Arianna Calin.” How could he be up this early? It wasn’t dark yet.
“How delightful to hear from you.” He didn’t sound delighted, but at least his tone was neutral.
OK, Arianna, your turn again. What in the world was she going to say to him? She’d expected to have time to work out the details before anyone called her back. Deep breath. Improvise.
“I know where the she-wolf is,” she said. “The one who was with Angela that night at the club. At least, I think so. But I have a problem and need your help.”
Pause. “I’m sure I should be flattered, Ms. Calin, but why involve me?”
“I need someone connected to the vampire bars and club owners. And you must want to get Victor off the hook.” She ignored his less-than-welcoming tone and tried to establish a little rapport. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot, but I could really use your help. At least hear me out.”
“I fail to see the benefit for me. Victor has what I believe you call an airtight alibi.”
“Nothing’s airtight. He’ll be a suspect until the killer is found. Besides, didn’t you want this murder solved?”
“Indeed. On that we can agree.”
“Then help me.” Seconds passed without a response, and Ari sighed. “Think of it like this. Once this case is solved, you’ll be rid of me. No more trouble at the club. No phone calls. Life goes back to normal.”
That got a chuckle. “An occurrence greatly to be desired. All right, Ms. Calin, I promise nothing, except listening. What would be my part in this plan?”
“It’s simple really. You contact the other club and bar owners. I’ll give them a police sketch of the she-wolf based on your description. When someone sees her, they call me. Or if they won’t do that, they call you, and you call me.”
“Why this elaborate scheme? If you know where she is, why not arrest her?”
“Can’t. The victim’s human, which means we have to follow human law. The she-wolf’s staying on private property. Until we know a lot more than we do now, we have to snag her in public where we don’t need a search warrant.”
“And if you find her in one of the clubs, what do you propose to do?”
“Well,” Ari filled in the details as she went. “If there’s any doubt about her identity, maybe you or Victor could go along and point her out. Then I’ll talk to her.”
“You make it sound easy. And, in the event she does not wish to talk, what then?”
Hmm. Good question. Ari hesitated, weighing her choices.
“Or is that where I come in again? Please, tell me you don’t expect me to hold her hostage until she complies.” Andreas’s voice held a strong undertone of amusement.
“Don’t be funny. Let me think about it,” Ari said, struggling to keep her annoyance in check. After all, she was asking for a big favor. “You know, I never expected you to answer the phone and ask all these questions.”
“Then why did you call?”
His question was so reasonable she swallowed her irritation. “I was going to leave a message,” she admitted. “OK, here’s the plan. If she refuses, I’ll take her into custody and put pressure on her at the police station.”
“You intend to arrest this woman inside my club or some other owner’s club?” Andreas wasn’t amused anymore. Incredulous, maybe.
“Not unless I have to,” Ari protested. “I think she’ll talk to me. Give me some credit, Andreas. I don’t intend to start a riot.”
“You astonish me. I assumed that was exactly your intent, and that you expected me to put down the uprising. I’m relieved your expectations were not so grand.”
“Cut the sarcasm,” she said. “Unless you’ve got a better idea, this is my only chance.”
“I cannot agree. Consenting to an arrest inside my club strikes me as a very poor business decision.” He paused. “I am not unsympathetic, but Club Dintero is a reputable establishment. I intend to keep it that way. Come up with a better proposal, and I’ll reconsider. And I will put some thought into it myself.”
“This is urgent,” Ari said. “The killer could get away. Or kill again.” She wondered if he was brushing her off. Maybe she’d pushed too hard.
“Then you should move quickly to find a better plan.”
That was the best she could get from him. At least he didn’t say no. Not entirely.
Chapter Ten
Once she was off the phone, Ari flopped on her couch and tried to come up with ideas to make her plan more acceptable to Andreas. When she finally realized that dusk had darkened her windows, she abandoned her efforts, began a kitchen search for food, and prepared to go on patrol. She’d just bitten into an apple, while contemplating the skimpy contents of her fridge, when Martin called. The elf served as Guardian for the rest of Riverdale, including the suburbs. Mostly wolf country.
Martin’s voice vibrated with tension. “Ari, we’ve got a mess on our hands! There’s been a vamp fight at Hartley Park. Two dead, their heads torn off. Third vamp got away. Probably headed your direction. Toward home. We’re searching the streets, but no sign of him yet.”
“A public fight? What brought that on?” She knew vamps sometimes settled disputes through violence, but never where the community could see it.
“Haven’t heard. But this big vamp’s really out of control, on a rampage. I notified the Council and the vampire court. Don’t try to take him by yourself, Ari. He’s over 250 pounds, built like a sumo wrestler, long black hair. His name might be Christopher. Here’s Steffan. Maybe he can tell you something more.”
She heard rustling on the other end, then Steffan’s voice.
“He’s right. It’s a mess here. There must be two hundred lycanthropes milling around. An impromptu Were Fest. But I wanted you to know a couple things right away. The vamps in the fight were brought here by that Canadian pack. Strange coincidence, right? That’s not the weirdest part. I’m being told the vamps were drunk. Is that even possible?”
Ari hardly heard the rest of the conversation. What Steffan had said made no sense. Vampires were resistant to spells and charms, even her stuns, and drank alcohol without visible effects. Prescription and recreational drugs were the same. Vamps simply didn’t get drunk or high. Witnesses had to be wrong. But whatever was going on, she couldn’t think of anything more dangerous than an Otherworlder who was out of control. Especially a vamp.
Telling Steffan she had to go, Ari strapped her ankle holster in place and slipped in the Cobra D22 derringer with its two rounds of silver bullets. It wasn’t lethal to Otherworlders, except at unbearably close quarters, but it might slow a vamp or get his attention. She shrugged into her leather jacket, checked her silver dagger. The knife was specially made, modeled after the F-S Fighting Knife once carried by US Marines. She never left the house without it and trained with it regularly. Once she verified her bracelet and pocket pouch were stocked with spells, potions, and extra ammo, Ari hit the streets.
She made a fast call to Ryan. This wasn’t his fight yet, but it would be if humans got in harm’s way. He agreed to have his officers step up neighborhood patrols and notify Ari if anyone sighted the suspect. Given the vampire’s size, he should be easy to spot.
Ari made the usual evening rounds, stopping in pubs frequented by vamps and a wine cellar owned and operated by wee folks, the unofficial town criers for Olde Town. Word of the fight was spreading, but slowly. Probably because it happened on the eastside. A quick sweep of Goshen Park turned up nothing. Ari backtracked to canvas more of the vampire strip. No rampaging vamp. No Canadian wolves. She listened for gossip about illegal magic or drug use but didn’t hear anything on that either.
It was after one in the morning. Ari was on her second trip through the vampire bar district when she heard the screams and sirens. She sprinted toward the commotion coming from the Second Chance Saloon, a dive that catered to members from the roughest vampire nests. She arrived as Ryan’s police cruiser squealed to a stop.
Yelling and shrieking, pushing and trampling over each other, panicked humans and Otherworlders jammed the bar’s parking lot. Adding to the confusion, a crowd continued to pour out the pub doors. Ari jumped in the bed of a parked truck to see over the crowd. A solid mass of watchers encircled two male vampires and their victims.
The neon bar lights reflected from a dark pool of blood surrounding one of the victims. The body, minus the left arm, lay still, already beyond help. The other victim thrashed wildly to break free from the grip of his vampire attacker.