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“No,” I said, irritation rising, because I knew what was coming.
“So you’ve got a person who saw Blake with another vampire. Possibly the killer, but that’s supposition. We have no hard physical evidence Levi was with Blake, or that Levi killed Blake. We don’t have a basis to hold Levi, much less anyone else. But we’re looking for him,” Theo said again, “and we’ll find him. In the meantime, don’t do anything rash.”
I ended the call before I started screaming, then stuffed my screen into my pocket and paced down the hall, considered seriously punching a fist into drywall.
Seriously considered but didn’t actually. I was sick to death ofvampires. But I’d made enough problems for Connor with the Pack, and exacerbating it wasn’t going to do anything.
Connor moved in front of me when I paced his way again, put his hands on my shoulders. “Let’s go back to my place,” he said, voice soothing. “We’ll take a break and process this, decide what we want to do next.”
“I don’t want to process. I want to end this. I want justice for Blake, for you.”
“In that order?” he asked, lips curving.
“Most justice for you, slight justice for him. And I want Clive to piss off.” I leaned my forehead against his chest. “Fucking vampires.”
“Fucking vampires,” Connor said and drew me into his arms. “Thank god you aren’t dating one.”
“Can you imagine?” But the sentiment made me smile. “You’re right. We should let the CPD do this part of the job. Clive knows about Levi now, and that might be enough to send him running.” I shook my head. “He won’t leave. Not until this is done. So we have to figure out a way to end it. To wrap this up, close this circle, et cetera.” I sighed haggardly. “But first, we have to feed the cat.”
***
Lulu and I had agreed to take turns checking on Eleanor of Aquitaine, and my turn had come, so we drove back to the loft.
We circled the block once, then twice, looking for prying eyes, waiting vehicles, found none. We climbed out of the SUV, looked around.
The loft was dark, as it should have been. The street was quiet of magic; only humans stirred here, some preparing for work at this dark hour, some returning home from work or entertainment. But most lights were off, the steady drum of traffic from the streets on the edge of the neighborhood the only real noise.
“Anything?” Connor asked, voice a whisper in the night.
“No. You?”
He shook his head.
We went inside, glancing right and left, then cautiously took the stairs to the loft. The building was quiet, probably much to the delight of Mrs. Prohaska. And since it smelled like cabbage again, I could guess how she was spending her time.
We reached the door, and I put a hand on it, felt for any magic inside. Found nothing but the belligerent whine of a cat who was angry either that we’d left her behind or that we were trespassing in her fortress of feline solitude.
I unlocked the door, let it swing open. The loft was dark and the hallway was empty but for the pile of mail on the floor and the angry goblin-cat. Eleanor sat in front of the threshold as she so often did, tail swishing furiously.
“I’m here to feed you,” I said. “Do you prefer we leave again?”
She flicked that tail in the air and disappeared into shadows.
“She’s probably a fairly good guard,” Connor whispered. “But let’s go check.”
I nodded and we slipped inside, closed the door as quietly as possible. I picked up the mail, and we crept through the hallway, looked right and left. He motioned me toward the bedrooms, gestured toward the kitchen area.
We split, searched our areas, found nothing and no one out of place. And she hadn’t peed in my shoes, which was its own miracle.
Mood lifted, I made my way back to the kitchen. “Clear,” I said aloud, when I found him standing in the loft, hands on his hips, looking around.
“Same.”
Still. There was something mildly creepy about being in here; like the loft had been abandoned and left for dead. Something dystopian. “Let me feed her and check her water, and we can leave.”
“No argument,” Connor said and rubbed his belly. “I could eat.”
“Pizza and coffee.”
