A Perfect Blood (The Hollows #10)(44)
Author: Kim Harrison

My skin prickled as Glenn pushed the door open, tense and straining for sound as he slipped into the darkness past the threshold. Nina was next, straight and upright as she casually strolled in and turned on the lights. Thinking about the mutated, twisted body in Washington Park, I hesitated where I was with Mr. Calaway. "We’re good," Glenn’s voice echoed out, and I lurched to get in before Mr. Calaway.

The room was at least two stories high, lit with fluorescent lights still flickering and ringed with banks of cupboards and counter space. At the center of the room was the holding pen in a huge snow-globe-like affair, all blackened timbers and broken chimney. The windows were mere slits, and the walls had fallen apart in places. It was ugly, awful, and I was glad it was behind glass. Maybe Mr. Calaway was right to hide this. The emotion coming from it was almost too much to bear.

Shivering, I went in farther. Mr. Calaway was staring, aghast, at the twin empty spaces against the opposite wall. I could see why. There were scrape marks, and in one place, the wall had been busted and a thick cable had been pulled out. The end was raw and looked like it had been connected to something, hardwired in, and just cut out.

There were no bodies, no blood, and it looked barren. Perhaps too barren, I thought as Mr. Calaway began a high-pitched cry, his hands over his mouth.

"They’re gone!" he shouted, pointing at the broken wall with a trembling finger, and Glenn turned from where he’d been staring at the holding pen.

"Who?" the FIB detective asked, his voice suddenly aggressive.

"The machines!" Mr. Calaway said, pointing again. "Someone took the machines! They’re gone!"

Chapter Ten

The come-and-go chatter of the FIB guys was pleasant, much like the audible equivalent of the hot chocolate I was sipping: warm, comfortable, and soothing. I watched the FIB officers with half my attention as they finished up, having vacuumed, photographed, measured, and taken samples within an inch of being ridiculous. They hadn’t strung up their yellow tape except for the door, and after I had promised that I’d stay sitting on the counter, they’d left me alone. I was being a good girl, and I think they’d forgotten I was here. It had been almost four hours.

My eyes strayed to a square of concrete that was lighter than the rest, and I couldn’t help but wonder why no one had commented on it. Even Ivy and Jenks – who had been allowed to help gather information – ignored it.

Setting my paper cup of powdered fat, sugar, and cocoa down, I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around my legs. I couldn’t help my sigh. Ivy took to data collection like a duckling to water, and Jenks, with his ability to see the smallest thing and wedge into the narrowest place without leaving anything but dust, was equally as welcome. Even the two I.S. personnel, standing on the outskirts and watching, were more accepted than I was. Somehow, between the investigation at Trent’s stables a few summers ago and the house where a banshee and her psychotic husband killed a young couple and stole their identities, I’d gained the reputation of being a disruptive force at a crime scene.

"But they can’t be replaced!" Mr. Calaway exclaimed as an FIB officer tried to lead him back out into the hallway. Smiling, I rested my cheek on my knees. The guy was having a very bad day, and his tidy state had slowly decayed. His small temper tantrum of frustration at Glenn’s estimation of his chances of recovering his property had been entertaining. I thought it odd that Mr. Calaway was more upset that his machines had been stolen than the fact that there had been six people living down here for almost a week without his knowledge, but I agreed with his assessment that even though the machines had been insured, replacing them would be impossible. They didn’t make equipment and software that revolved around identification of the genetic markers anymore.

Trent probably had one, I thought. I’d ask him if he was missing any sensitive machinery when I talked to him about the memory-charm blocker.

A soft prickling of the skin on my neck brought my head up, and I looked across the wide room to see Nina making a slow beeline for me. Her expression was one of surprise that I’d felt her attention, and I shifted my legs to a more professional position, dangling them over the sides of the counter and a good foot off the floor.

"May I join you?" she asked formally, and I nodded, feeling uncomfortable. She’d been here as long as I had, going upstairs once to make a call before returning to sit on the outskirts and watch. I didn’t think she was waiting her turn like I was, but rather learning firsthand how extensive FIB data gathering was.

She sighed heavily as she leaned a hip against the counter, sounding so alive that I stared at her. "Not mad at me anymore?" I said, and she chuckled.

"Mildly annoyed," she drawled, her hands holding her biceps. "Losing jurisdiction was a small concession for the chance to see you work." Looking sideways at me, she all but smirked. "If the FIB fails to apprehend the people responsible and to keep HAPA out of the headlines, you will still take the blame."

It was what I figured, and peeved, I thumped my heels into the cupboard I was sitting on. "Getting settled?" I said sourly, meaning him into Nina, and her expression flashed, dark.

But then she smiled to show her little living-vampire teeth. "Nina is most appreciative," she said, her voice lower than one would expect. "She was destined to be no one, and now she will walk away from this with myriad coping techniques and little wisdoms that other vampires will recognize and acknowledge. I’ve furthered her evolution tremendously, and her chances of living past the crucial forty-year ceiling after death have increased as well."

I was talking directly to the undead vampire, and it gave me the creeps. "Okay, so why don’t you do this all the time? There’s got to be a downside."

Nina shifted her body away. "How right you are, Ms. Morgan."

I waited for more, but he/she wasn’t telling, instead watching the FIB personnel examining the bags of dust they’d sucked up in the vacuum. "Tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine," I mocked.

Nina stiffened. She slowly turned back, still leaning casually against the counter but with a new wariness tightening her features. "Why should I?"

I was dealing with the devil, and my heart hammered. "Rynn Cormel believes that I can save her soul after death." I glanced at Ivy, who was studying a printout with Jenks. "He believes I’ll find a way to keep her soul intact after she dies, and with that, she won’t need the blood anymore. The information might help me figure out how." I licked my lips. It was the first time I’d openly admitted to anyone not my friend why the city-wide master vampire and former U.S. president had put me and my roommate off-limits to everyone.