“Are you paying attention?”
“What?” Creek tried to recall what the mayor had just said.
“I just thought you’d find it interesting.” Lola’s flashlight swept the ground methodically. “That there was ‘forensic material’ beneath her nails.”
“It is interesting. Why hasn’t that led to a suspect? DNA recording has been mandatory since what, 2029? Unless whoever that DNA belongs to is older than thirty-eight. Still, that’s a clue in itself, right?”
She stopped scanning the alley to face him. “The forensic material didn’t hold any DNA. The detective on the case said it came back as mostly carbon.”
“Carbon?”
Her gaze stayed fixed on his face. “Ash.”
“Did they find any ash under the nails of the second girl?” He inhaled, testing the air. At the edges of his sensory limits, he picked up two scents. Varcolai and vampire. The first was probably Havoc, although it didn’t smell canine.
“They found something but won’t confirm until the tests come back. I’m sure it’s the same thing.”
Creek held his expression in neutral. “Wonder what that means?” It meant when the comarré had scratched her attacker, the skin beneath her nails had died and turned to ash. Which meant the attacker had been a vampire. Probably the one who’d left some scent trace behind.
“You know what it means.”
He stared at her without speaking. This was the kind of information that could rouse a witch hunt. Not that he was against tracking down the vamp responsible, but there were a good number of fringe who were just trying to live their lives. The ones who weren’t, he took care of.
“You have no response?”
“I’m sure the police will come up with something.”
“Don’t vampires turn to ash when they’re killed? Or is that just a myth, too?”
He hesitated. Lying wasn’t going to make things better. “No. Not a myth.”
She said something, but a noise at the end of the alley pulled his attention. John was focused in that direction, too. He held a hand up to the mayor, then pointed down the alley. Quietly, he said, “We’ve got company.”
Was this the vampire who’d killed Julia returning to the scene? If so, Creek would end this game here and now before Lola had a chance to declare martial law. “Stay here,” Creek whispered. He pointed behind a stack of pallets. “There. Get down.”
Lola moved toward the pallets, and he joined Havoc near the alley opening. The bitter scent he’d smelled earlier increased, confirming what he’d already thought. “Vampire.”
Havoc nodded, his voice low. “Three, I think. Maybe more.”
“Youngbloods?” Creek asked, referring to the gang name some of the fringe had lately taken to sporting on the back of leather jackets and tagging on abandoned buildings.
“Probably.”
Creek nodded, freeing his crossbow from its holster. “You stay with the mayor. I’ll see if I can draw them away.”
A dark shape dropped into the alley in front of them.
“Too late,” Havoc answered, whipping out his pistol and charging the vampire, his nails and teeth bared. He fired off a few shots, striking the creature but not bringing it down. One more reason guns were so inefficient when it came to killing bloodsuckers. Smoke rose from the bullet holes, where the hot silver had made its mark. At least Havoc’s ammo caused some pain.
A soft thud behind Creek twisted him around. A second vamp. Lola let out a short yelp. Creek snapped his crossbow up and fired off a bolt as the creature turned toward the mayor. It tagged the vampire’s shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Creek was on top of him a second later. He yanked out the bolt and drove it straight through the vampire’s heart. It went to ash beneath his feet.
“You okay?” he asked Lola.
She sat against the alley wall, her face pale, her eyes round. “No,” she whispered.
“Stay where you are. We’ll have this over in a minute and get you home.” He ran back toward Havoc, who now fought three vampires. A female clung to his back. Creek put a bolt in her first. She was ash before she hit the ground.
Havoc took down another, pinning him to the asphalt. He planted the gun’s muzzle against the creature’s chest and pulled the trigger. A third pile of ash joined the other two. The last vampire, realizing he was outmanned, ran.
Havoc got up, brushed himself off, and extended a hand to Creek. “Thanks.”
Creek shook it, surprised. “You too.”
Havoc tipped his head toward the mayor. “Guess she’ll believe you now, huh?”
Creek shrugged and tried to lighten things up. “You never know with women. Let’s get her back home. She’s probably had all the reality she can handle for one night.”
Tatiana woke before Laurent did, but only by force, not because she felt rested. Wearing Daciana’s image for so long made her weary to her bones. Too weary to be bothered killing Laurent off. Just staying awake during the car ride to the hangar had been a struggle. She’d dropped into bed almost the minute they’d entered the plane. She didn’t even remember takeoff. If only she could be herself, gain her full strength back. But they had a few hours yet before they landed and she could be rid of Laurent and the charade.
She glanced at him, naked and sleeping beside her. In a small way, it was too bad she had to kill him. He might be overbearing with his wife, but he was quick, crafty. And he’d captured the comarré with what seemed like very little effort. She should hate him for that, but he’d made her life so much easier by doing it. Maybe she could explain what she’d done, get him and Daciana to understand the necessity of it. Let them live. They would, after all, be in her service for as long as she was Dominus. If the Castus ever showed up and made that happen.