House Rules (Chicagoland Vampires #7)(18)
Author: Chloe Neill

"I checked Eve’s calls," he said. "She’d cleared out her call list within the last day or two, so there are only a couple of phone calls on it: to Rose, to the registration center."

"Crap," I said. "I was hoping for more of a lead there. She probably called the registration center to see if they were open."

"That’s what I was thinking."

"What about biological material on the phone? Fingerprints, anything like that? Or the glass?"

"We’ve asked Detective Jacobs to take a look," Catcher said. Detective Jacobs was a solid cop and a friend of my grandfather’s. Unlike some of the other CPD members, he didn’t assume we were troublemakers just because we were vampires.

"Good," I said.

Jeff swiveled in his chair to face me, fingers intertwined over his abdomen. "It is good. The problem is, the CPD is already backlogged. Even pulling in a favor, it could be a few days before we find anything out."

I sat down and blew out a breath, deflated. I’d been hoping for something more from those two little bits of evidence. They were the only leads we had, and they were looking like pretty crappy leads.

"I’m out of ideas," I said.

"It’s possible there’s nothing to this," Catcher said. "Maybe they aren’t missing. Maybe this is just about two vampires who decided to make their own decision, go their own way. They are Rogues, after all."

"Yeah, but even Rogues follow patterns. And from what Noah was saying, it was out of character for these two to completely up and disappear."

"Merit?"

We all looked up. My grandfather stood in the doorway. "There are some folks here I think you’ll want to see."

His expression was neutral, and I found my hopes lifting. Was it Oliver and Eve? Had they dropped by to tell us they were fine, and this had all been a big misunderstanding?

I followed him into the hallway, Catcher and Jeff at my heels, and then back into the living room.

In front of the door, tucked into jackets against the cold, stood Noah, Rose, and a third vampire I didn’t know. Rose’s eyes were red and swollen. The new girl, who had tan skin and sleek, jet-black hair, had an arm around Rose.

Their expressions didn’t bode well; nor did the melancholic magic that accompanied them into the house.

"We’re sorry to barge in," Noah said.

"Not at all," my grandfather said. "Please come in. I can take your jackets, if you like."

"No, we’re okay," Noah said, as they stepped inside.

My grandfather smiled gently and gestured toward the sofa. "Have a seat."

Noah nodded, and the trio moved silently to the couch.

"You know Rose," Noah said when they were seated. "This is Elena."

"Catcher and Jeff Christopher," I said, motioning to the pair, who stood behind me. "And my grandfather Chuck Merit. What’s happened?" I asked Noah.

"We found them," Noah said.

As Rose broke into a sob, Noah pulled his cell phone from his pocket, pushed a button or two, and handed it to me.

CHAPTER FIVE

VAMPIRES, INTERRUPTED

I’d braced myself for the worst, and that was hardly preparation enough. The picture was grainy and the colors were mottled, but there was no denying the subject matter.

Oliver and Eve were dead.

There were few guaranteed ways to kill a vampire – aspen stake, sunlight, total dismemberment, decapitation. The latter two options were why vampires carried swords into battle. Our blades were a sure weapon to fell an immortal foe.

Whoever had done this deed, whatever dark-hearted monster, had chosen decapitation.

They lay side by side on a wood floor in a pool of blood. They were holding hands, their fingers intertwined in a final act of love – a denial of death. Their arms were covered in tattoos that seemed to flow together, as if they’d been inked arm over arm by the same artist.

They both had blond hair, but it was matted with blood. Their throats had been cut completely, their heads severed but resting only centimeters away from their bodies, a mockery of their immortality. They might have survived other wounds that would kill most humans; vampires healed quickly, and gashes might have eventually closed. But decapitation was, quite clearly, a mortal wound. A cruel cut.

There were no other signs of trauma. They might have been sleeping . . . other than the obvious insult.

I’d seen death before, and I’d taken life myself – always in the heat of battle, and always to protect someone or something that I’d loved. That was different. Unless Noah had information about Oliver and Eve we just didn’t understand, this was cold-blooded, and shocking in its brutality.

My stomach swooned. My skin felt clammy, and a cold trickle of sweat slipped down my back. My head spun. I was swamped by the sudden memories of the loss I’d suffered a few months ago, before Ethan had been brought back to me. . . .

Shakily, I handed the phone to my grandfather, then looked at Noah, Rose, and Elena. "I’m so sorry for your loss."

Noah nodded. "We aren’t troublemakers. I don’t know who could have done this."

"A monster," my grandfather said frankly, handing the phone to Catcher and Jeff, then looking at Noah, Rose, and Elena in turn. "I’m sorry for your loss, as well. I know that’s little consolation, but I’m sorry for it."

I wondered how many times he’d spoken those words in his decades-long career as a cop.

"You took the picture?" Catcher asked.

Noah nodded again. "A friend of ours is a professional photographer. He loves to take shots of urban decay: building husks, graffiti, rusting steel, things like that. There’s an old document warehouse not far from his studio. It was built in the nineteen forties, and he didn’t think it would last much longer. He wanted to take a look before it was torn down or fell down, so he was walking through it with a colleague."

Noah cleared his throat, as if the explanation was getting more difficult. "They were walking around one of the upper floors, and they smelled blood, but they couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. No visible source anywhere. James – that’s the vampire – eventually found a latch. There was a secret room, a vault of some kind at the back of the room. They opened the door . . . and found Oliver and Eve."

Rose sobbed. My grandfather offered a box of tissues housed in a cozy knitted by my grandmother. Elena pulled a few out and handed them to Rose, who pressed them to her face but only cried harder.

"We took a look – just to confirm it was them – then came here. I left others to retrieve their remains. In case there’s other evidence there, we wanted someone to know."