This Side of the Grave (Page 53)

"Not just some," Dave supplied grimly. "Lots. If you’re a member of Apollyon’s line, either by blood or membership through his extremist group, then your food’s supplied to you for free. If not, Apollyon has an underground supermarket for ghouls who would rather buy their own food than go out hunting and gathering for it."

I couldn’t throw up anymore, but I thought I might dry heave. Most of the times, ghouls ate raw meat of the animal variety, like uncooked steak or pork roast. But at least a couple times of year, they needed to add some Homo sapiens to their diet in order to maintain their strength.

Don supplied Dave’s extra dietary requirements from bodies donated to science or left unclaimed at hospitals. It didn’t take much. One corpse on ice parceled out in small amounts could last a ghoul a year or two, easy.

But taking money from grieving families to bury their loved ones, then turning around and selling those loved ones like so much deli meat while burying an empty casket instead? That was just . . . wrong.

"Apollyon makes those pension-stealing Wall Street crooks look like amateurs," I said, shaking my head.

"That’s damn straight," Dave muttered.

"It does give us a new way to attempt to track him," Mencheres noted, logical as always.

"I’ll have some ghouls in our line start investigating places rumored to sell human meat. Perhaps we can find one connected to Apollyon. In the interim, Dave, tell me where this funeral home is.

I want to go there."

"Why?" I asked. "I’ll have Tate start watching it from satellite and tapping into their phone lines and Internet to see if we can luck out and snag Apollyon that way, but all of us showing up there is too risky."

Mencheres gave me a faint smile. "I agree. That’s why I’ll be going alone."

"Haven’t you had enough of risking your life to play lone hero lately?" Vlad asked, making an exasperated noise.

"One vampire stands a far better chance of avoiding notice than three," Mencheres pointed out. "I agree that everything Cat outlined should be done, but that’s not enough. If I’m close, I can listen to the thoughts of any humans they might employ, as well as scent the area to see if Apollyon’s been there – and before you tell me you can do all these things, of the three of us, I am better equipped to escape should my presence be detected." I’d love to argue with him, but he was right, and the tight line of Vlad’s mouth said that he knew it, too.

"When are you intending to do this?" I asked, glancing out the window. It would be dark in a couple hours, and we were supposed to be cruising the bar and club scene as usual, hoping Apollyon or one of his close aides was in a partying mood.

"Now," Mencheres said, nodding at Dave. "Direct me."

Dave gave him the location of the funeral home/cemetery, and Mencheres walked away without another word, heading up the stairs to weapon up, I guessed.

"You’ll call us when you’re done, right?"

"Yes," his voice floated down.

Dave glanced at his watch. "I gotta get back. Don’t want them swinging by my apartment early and wondering why I’m not there."

I gave him a final hug, resisting the urge to tell him to be careful. He was a smart, tough soldier and he already knew that.

"I’ll see you guys soon" was what I said to Dave and Fabian, hoping I sounded confident and not like it was a prayer. Fabian might be able to slip away unscathed to warn us if Dave’s spying was discovered, but even at our fastest, we might not be able to rescue Dave in time, and he knew it.

"Say hi to Tate and the rest of the guys," Dave said.

"Will do."

I kept my smile until they left, and then it dropped from my face like a fallen bridge. Vlad turned away, saying something about checking in with his people.

He wasn’t the only one who had to make a phone call. I sighed, then picked up my cell to call Tate and give them the location of the latest place to put under surveillance – and hope he had no awful news to relay about my mother or uncle.

Chapter Twenty-seven

I stared out the window, lost in mythoughts, barely noticing the blur of buildings that we drove past. Most of Memphis had recovered from the terrible flooding last year, but here and there, you could still see signs of the water’s ravages. The people had bounced back, though, reopening businesses and rebuilding homes. Ghosts might have proved to be a surprisingly tough bunch, as Fabian pointed out, but my species – or former species, I guess – was pretty resilient, too.

I frowned when Vlad turned the corner and went down a long street that didn’t look like it was anywhere close to the bar we were supposed to go to.

"You’re not lost, are you?"

He glanced at me, one side of his mouth ticked up in a sly smile. "Field trip," he said, taking the next right.

I took one look at the wrought-iron arch at the end of the road and shook my head.

"A cemetery? We agreed that Mencheres was doing recon on Apollyon, not us!"

"We’re not here looking for Apollyon or any other ghouls," Vlad replied evenly. He parked at the farthest spot from the entrance before turning to fully face me. "We’re here because you’re going to try that new trick you picked up from Marie." For several seconds, I was speechless, torn between wondering if I should lie and say I didn’t know what he was talking about, or demand to know who told him. I couldn’t imagine that Bones would have said anything to Tepesh. They certainly weren’t close.

"What do you think you know about that?" I settled on at last, giving him a hard look. No way would I start babbling out a confession, even if he was drilling me with the ol’ Dracula knowing stare.

"I know you didn’t start wearing garlic and weed just to make a bold fashion statement, and that your sudden popularity with ghosts didn’t start until after you saw Marie," Vlad said, his mouth twisting. "Hadn’t quite worked it all out until this morning, when I heard you mention being able to stand the ‘freaky ghost juju’ from Marie during that unutterably sappy conversation you had with Bones. Then I realized what was going on. Very impressive, being able to absorb powers from ghouls, too."

"Are you crazy?" I hissed, looking around. "What if this cemetery is crawling with you-know-who’s people and they overheard you?"

He snorted. "It’s not. I’d feel it if there were ghouls here. I’m a lot older than you, so my range is stronger. The only dead things around for a mile in any direction are you, me, and everyone buried under the dirt."

That mollified me, but I still remembered the warning Bones had relayed from Marie about what would happen if we told anyone that I’d drunk her blood. "It’s not just the dead or undead we need to worry about overhearing," I said, jerking my head toward the window.