Page 19 of Death is Familiar

“It’s a transition in the conversation.”

“Segue?”

“Yes!” He did the motion again. “Segue.”

“A segue into … that I should be less … careless?”

“About being careful about what painkillers you take.” He lowered his head and raised his brow, trying to get me to read into his choice of words, but I just raised my brows and stared right back.

Todd chuffed, leaning back against the couch, crossing his arms. Somehow the bowl of chips didn’t move.

“If that was supposed to be a clue, I’m going to need something better.”

Todd gave it a moment. But soon there was a glint in his dark eyes—he’d thought of something. “When Chardonnay knew Marguerite went to the club, she….” Made Marguerite take a drug test the next day because she believed everyone who went to clubs did drugs.

Oh god. There were two reasons why this was unsettling. One, both Todd and I had watched far too much reality TV. And two, Todd was letting me know that I was going to be tested for drugs on my next visit to the FBI. In little over twenty-four hours.

I tried not to let the horror show on my face. If Todd hadn’t told me—I shook the thought away. I needed to get on top of fooling the test and fast.

“Gotcha.” I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. “I can guarantee my result will be different than Marguerite’s.” She had, in fact, tested positive, so I technically wasn’t lying, even if I tested positive for something else. But I was curious. Why would Todd bring this up, unless he knew a way around the test? “But let’s say I did do drugs⁠—”

“Then I’d tell you to do anything and everything to get a prescription before the test.” Not exceedingly helpful in my situation, or if there were drugs in my system that couldn’t be prescribed, but I appreciated that he was trying.

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. He didn’t have to tell me anything. The tests were supposed to be ‘random’ and I sure as hell shouldn’t have been made aware. I grabbed a handful of chips, took control of the remote, and gestured to the woman on the screen. “Now, for a more important question, do we love or hate Solene?”

†

“Ms. James, if you could come with me, please?”

The three of us, Jack, Todd, and I, had just passed security when the FBI’s drug program administrator appeared out of nowhere. I did my best to look shocked.

The drug program administrator led me straight to the nearest washroom, gave me a set of instructions, a specimen cup, and opened the designated stall door for me. Blue dye in the toilet told me there would be no scooping water out of the back tank.

Good thing I’d had just over twenty-four hours to prepare.

To be honest, twenty-four hours might have been overkill, but I wanted to be as close to certain as possible that the test would not give me away. I spent the last day overhydrating, constantly running to the washroom to flush any trace of the hormones out of my system. The idea was that if I drank enough, for long enough, the hormones would be too diluted to register on the test.

After starting the process, the longest I went without running to the washroom was forty-five minutes. Which meant every forty-five minutes, or less, I was up and moving.

But it would all be worth it.

If it worked.

My involvement in the test was over quickly. But the effects of my preparations lasted well beyond the testing window. I swore the other agents could hear all the water I drank sloshing around as I joined them in the briefing room.

Fawzy nodded at me, her legs outstretched, ankles crossed beneath the table, as I took up residence between her and Todd. Kaatz, Zhou, and Thruppy, on the other hand, were too preoccupied with their notes and devices to do much more than look my direction. It seemed whatever camaraderie we built on the Almeida case had been chilled.

“Great. Now, that we’re all here,” Jack stood, bringing everyone’s attention to the oversized projector screen at the front of the room, “this is our next case.”

An image of five people, three women and two men, lying on the ground in a cemetery appeared on the screen. They were spaced apart from one another, evenly, with intention. Each person looked like the lowercase letter T, positioned so that their legs were outstretched, ankles together, arms out to their sides at three and nine o’clock.

With their eyes closed, hair mussed, everyone knew better than to ask if they were sleeping.

“Five people were found dead in Spring Grove Cemetery in Cincinnati earlier this week.” Jack progressed to the next slide, a close up of one of their necks. “Two puncture wounds were present on each of the victims. All found on the neck. Local PD has no witnesses, no footage, and their leads haven’t turned up anything useful. The victims have been identified, their families informed. No unusual activity or change in behavior. But rumors and panic are spreading locally because of the state of the bodies when they were found. Zhou?”

For once, Agent Zhou raised her gaze from her phone. “Residents are taking to social media, lots of chatter and misinformation. No pictures and no names shared, but when it comes to these murders, there is one word on everyone’s minds.” Ugh. Vampires. Fucking vampires. It didn’t take a lot to put two and two together.

“Vampires.” Jack’s response lacked enthusiasm. “Not that is needs to be said, but there is no merit to the rumors. People, not creatures, are behind this. Though the deaths appear tied to some sort of ritual.” Not one I had heard of, but I had tried to stay away from vampire cults. They gave me the creeps, even if they were, for the most part, harmless.