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The sound of the radio seemed to swell to fill the void left by her silence, so no one missed the news bulletin: "In a bizarre new twist in the latest, so-called 'beast murder,' an inside source reports police have been the recipient of an anonymous phone call claiming the two murders are the work of werewolves. Chief Detective Sirilla refused to comment. " The news reporter had some difficulty concealing his amusement, but regained his awareness of bad taste before he made a joke. "These are, of course, serious crimes, and police would appreciate any real information that would lead to an arrest."
Esmé leaned back in her chair and turned off the radio. "Shit, shit, shit."
"But who would know?" Tomas asked. "Who could possibly know?" He was flushed and angry.
Vivian was well aware of who it was. How could he do that? she thought in dismay. After all those sweet kisses, how could he think she could kill? She might doubt herself, but she had given him no reason to doubt her. Just because she could change into an animal didn't mean she would behave like a mindless brute. Then she remembered shredding Kelly's clothes. Sweet Moon, she thought. Why wouldn't he think me capable of violence?
Something else chilled her: The newscaster had said werewolves. But newspeople got details wrong all the time, she'd heard. Maybe Aiden had told the police werewolf, singular. He couldn't have said werewolves. What did I tell Aiden when I changed? she thought. Had she at any time implied that there were more than one of her kind? Had he guessed that her whole family was like her?
"They won't believe the caller," Tomas said. "They'll think he's a nut." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Esmé.
"But what if there's one of those vigilante creeps out there?" Esmé asked.
Vivian rose to leave the kitchen, afraid of what was showing on her face. "Bathroom," she mumbled as she went through the door to the dining room.
Aiden wouldn't have expected his phone call to make the news. He must be wetting his pants right now, she thought. He'll know I know who told. The idea should have cheered her up; instead it depressed her. I would never hurt you, she promised silently. I couldn't hurt you. I love you. She gazed out the dining room window in time to see two police officers coming up the front path.
Chapter 25
25
"Go get Gabriel," Esmé told Vivian.
"No, I'll go," Tomas said, scrambling to his feet and flying through the back door.
"Thanks a lot for your support," Esmé called after him. "Well, answer the door then," she snapped at Vivian in a voice brittle with nerves. "You saw them coming."
Vivian walked briskly to the door before she could change her mind and run off like Tomas.
"We'd like to speak to Vivian Gandillon," said the woman cop, and Vivian's heart flip-flopped.
"That's me," she said. Her words came out in a squeak.
"We'd like to ask you some questions," the woman said.
The blood roared in Vivian's ears like a train. She wanted to slam the door shut, but that wouldn't make them disappear. "You'd better come in," she said.>She peered into three windows before she found the room she wanted - a small bedroom papered with rock band posters. The bed was empty. Vivian growled at the back of her throat, imagining Kelly in another bed - Aiden's. Gonna wait for you, girl.
She tried prying open the casement window with her fingers, but it was locked from inside. What now? She wiped the sweat from her brow with a downy forearm.
A quick tour of the yard turned up a shed. The chain holding the door closed snapped like a candy cane. Inside were a lawn mower, gas cans, a bench laden with pots, and garden tools dangling neatly on pegs.
On one of the pegs hung a roll of duct tape. She took that and a trowel and went back to Kelly's window. The air was a soup of moisture and insects. In the distance thunder snarled.
She ripped off lengths of tape with her teeth and plastered them over a windowpane, then hit the mess with the trowel. The tape deadened the noise, and the broken glass peeled away easily. Through the hole, she flicked the lock, turned the handle, and let herself into the cool, dark room.
Vivian carefully closed the bedroom door, drew the curtains, then turned on a lamp beside the bed. She winced at the light. A few seconds passed before she could look around through squinting eyes.
The room was that of a little girl gone bad. Beneath the haphazard pictures full of naked chests, flannel, and tattoos, she could see pink, flowered wallpaper. There was an ink-stained pink ruffle around the dressing table, and a loving mother still made the bed up in pink sheets, although it was probably the daughter who had thrown a black down comforter on top. An old stuffed tiger lolled its head on the pillow.
Great Moon, what am I doing here? Vivian thought. This is crazy. Kelly didn't do anything I wouldn't do. Suddenly she yearned for her own room, her own bed. Waiting seemed stupid and useless. Gotta get out of here, she decided.
"Here, have a present, Kelly." Vivian smacked the bottle down on the dresser amid jars of makeup, bangles, pens, and tapes. The bottle tipped when she let go, and she grabbed for it, then noticed the chain underneath that had set it off balance. On the end of the chain was a pentagram.
As she picked up the pentagram her nails lengthened to claws and hair grew in a prickling trail down her back. "He gave it to you?" Her words were a whisper of strangled outrage. Was this the same necklace she had thrown back at Aiden? Was he so callous he could turn around and give it to someone else? Or did he give everyone a pentagram? Tears coursed down her cheeks as she bent the charm in half. I thought I was special.
She clicked off the light.
"I hate pink," she spat, and pierced a curtain with her claws, shredding it down to the hem. She turned both curtains to ribbons, savoring the sound of tearing and the tingling vibrations in her fingertips.
