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“Ma’am, respectfully, I’m a New Orleans homicide detective. If I had to report every strange thing I’ve seen in my job to you, you guys would never get a lick of work done for the rest of your unnatural lives.”
“Be that as it may, I think being aware of an undead werewolf might be strange enough to warrant a polite email to our office, don’t you think?”
“I made certain groups aware of the threat.” He looked directly at me. “Though I had hoped they would share the courtesy.”
“Hey now.” I tried to offer him a friendly smile, but he wasn’t having it. “This wasn’t really a plan until about two hours ago, and I was pretty sure you didn’t want to know what we were up to. At least until we were done.”
“You’re going to try to kill Deerling, aren’t you?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t answer that, either,” Lucas said.
“Who’s the lawyer?” Bryce asked.
“Lucas Rain,” I told him.
Bryce snorted. “You must think I was born yesterday. Lucas Rain? The billionaire? He died in New York during the invasion.”
“And Timothy Deerling died a year ago, about two hundred feet from where we’re standing. I’m pretty sure anything you used to think was impossible needs to be reassessed, detective.”
Bryce took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt, then gave Lucas another look, though I don’t think he was any more con
vinced than he had been previously. Lucas had been something of a recluse when he’d been alive, keeping his face largely out of the press to avoid unnecessary scrutiny falling on him and his pack. Now that the werewolves were out in public, there was a memorial to him where the Rain hotel had once been, and where he’d died, but still, it wasn’t surprising that just seeing him wasn’t enough for Bryce.
“Genie, can we have a word?” He inclined his head towards the passenger side of his car, and I gave a nod to Wilder to let him know it was okay. Wilder wandered off to join the others, giving Bryce and I some privacy.
I got into the car, and found that he’d cleaned it up a little since the last time I’d been inside. There were still food containers and coffee cups on the floor, but I could make a place to put my feet, and it didn’t look quite so much like an archeological expedition into his gastronomical tendencies. He’d developed a bit of a Starbucks habit, if the green and white cups were any indication. Several of them said Bruce in black sharpie.
He got in and closed the driver’s door, then turned his body towards me. In closer quarters I could smell his deodorant and a lingering aroma of a cologne he’d probably put on the night before.
“You can’t honestly expect me to let you run around town with the intent of killing someone.”
“I never said that was my plan.”
“You never denied it either.”
“A lack of denial isn’t the same as an admission, and I think that’s sort of how laws work. We haven’t done anything wrong, and we’re here with a federal agent.”
“A federal agent who happens to be your sister, and a guy who’s claiming to be a dead billionaire.”
“Not claiming. He is Lucas Rain.”
“Jesus Christ, Genie, do you think you might offer me a little more insight into what’s going on here? You and I both know your sister isn’t here in any sort of official capacity.”
“She can make it official with a single phone call.”
“Well last I checked the FBI doesn’t have the right to sign death warrants. This is still a country with due process.”
“Can you even hear yourself? Timothy Deerling died. He was shot in the face. Then he came back and he killed someone. You might be a cop, but I think we can all agree this son of a bitch is better off back in the grave than awaiting trial somewhere.”
Bryce stared at me, then slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Honest to God, I wish I’d never met you, you know that? Ever since I saw you at that crime scene I said to myself, this girl is going to be nothing but headaches for me. And you have been so much more trouble than I ever could have guessed.”
I smiled at him. “But I’m so adorable.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not this time, kid. You’re likable enough when you’re not up to your nostrils in death and demon blood, but I’m starting to think those moments are the exception and not the rule.”
“Busted.”
“You can’t kill Timothy Deerling.”
