“Is it true? A dead woman in the cemetery, drained of blood?”
Fiona nodded. “I saw Jagger DeFarge. He’s lead detective on the case. Naturally I told him that he has to find the killer right away, and obviously we don’t care if it’s one of his own, the murderer must be destroyed.”
Caitlin sank into the chair on the other side of the desk. Fiona knew that the three of them resembled one another, and yet there were also noticeable differences. Her sister had the most beautiful silver eyes she had ever seen, while Shauna’s had a touch of green and hers were blue. Her own hair was very light, Caitlin’s a shade darker and Shauna’s had a touch of red. Their heights were just a shade different, too. She was shortest at five-seven, while Caitlin had a half an inch on her, and Shauna was five-eight.
Right now, Caitlin’s eyes were darkening like clouds on a stormy day.
“He admits the killer has to be a vampire?”
“No, of course not. He didn’t admit anything.”
“But we all know it has to have been a vampire.”
Fiona hesitated. The last thing she wanted to do was defend Jagger DeFarge.
She had kept her distance from him, for the most part. Keepers were not supposed to interfere with everyday life. They did have their councils—kind of like a paranormal Elks Club, she thought with a smile—but as long as the status quo stayed the status quo, each society dealt with their own.
She knew, however, that Jagger did well in life passing as a normal citizen of the city. He was a highly respected police detective and had been decorated by the department.
She’d seen him a few times on television when he’d been interviewed after solving a high profile case. She remembered one interview in particular, when Jagger and his squad had brought in a killer who had scratched out a brutal path of murder from Oregon to Louisiana.
“Frankly, most of the time, what appears on the surface is what a perpetrator wants us to see. Any good officer has to look below the surface. In our city, sadly, we have a high crime rate much of it due to greed, passion or envy, not to mention drugs and domestic violence. But in searching for those who murder because of mental derangement or more devious desires, we can never accept anything at face value,” he had said.
Before she could reply to Caitlin’s question, Shauna came rushing into the office breathlessly. “Well?”
Her youngest sister’s hair was practically flying. She was wearing a soft silk halter dress that swirled around her as she ran, and even when she stopped in front of the desk, she still seemed to be in motion.
“Jagger won’t admit that it was a vampire. Maybe I’m phrasing that wrong. He said that he has to investigate. He reminded me that this is New Orleans—that we attract human wackos just the same as we attract those of us who just want to live normal lives. He didn’t insist that it wasn’t a vampire, he just said that he needs to investigate.”
“Vampires!” Caitlin said, her tone aggravated, as if vampires were the cause of everything that ever went wrong.
“What are you going to do?” Shauna asked.
Fiona frowned. “I don’t know. But look, we can’t all be back here. We can’t leave the shop unattended.”
“I put the Out for Lunch sign up in the window,” Shauna said.
“Out for lunch? It’s ten-thirty in the morning!” Fiona protested.
“Okay, so we’re having an early lunch,” Shauna said with a shrug.
“What do you intend to do?” Caitlin asked. “And don’t say you don’t know, because I know that’s not true.”
“Investigate myself,” Fiona said with a shrug. “Vampires. It’s my duty. I will find out the truth, and I will fix the situation.” She sighed. “Obviously I’ll be out most of the day. Oh, and even if we have to have ‘lunch’ several times in one day, never leave the shop unattended with the door open. We need to be especially careful now, all right?”
Her sisters nodded gravely.
Fiona rose. She had to get started. The situation demanded immediate action.
“Where are you going first?” Caitlin asked her.
“To see August Gaudin,” Fiona said grimly.
Usually werewolves were not her favorite beings, though she tried very hard not to be prejudiced and stereotype them. It was the whole transformation thing that seemed so strange to her—so painful. And the baying at the moon.
Vampires were capable of certain transformations, as well, it was far more a matter of astral projection and hypnotism. A vampire could take on a few legendary forms, such as a wolf and a bat, but they were weakened in such states, and since no vampire wanted to go up against an angry werewolf, for example, in the creature’s own shape, the legendary transformation seldom happened.
Like vampires and shapeshifters, werewolves lived among the human population of the city, controlling themselves—with Shauna as their Keeper. But August Gaudin had fought alongside her parents, and in his human shape he was a dignified older man with silver hair, a broad chest and broad shoulders, and benign and gentle powder-blue eyes. He was an attorney by trade, and he had been elected to the city commission, and also worked with the tourism board. He had been genuinely wonderful to Fiona and her sisters, helping them when they truly needed a friend.
His offices were on Canal Street, and she walked there as quickly as she could, not wanting to call ahead, because trying to explain on the phone or, worse, leave a message would be too difficult.
August would see her. He always did.
The office manager stopped her when she would have absently burst right through to see him, but they had met before, and the woman knew that August wouldn’t turn Fiona down. Still, the woman pursed her lips and said, “Please, sit, and I will let Mr. Gaudin know that you’re here.”
“I’ll stand, thank you,” Fiona said. Silly. The woman was just wielding her power.
August Gaudin came out to greet her, reaching out to take her hands. “Fiona! Dear child, come on in, come on in. Margaret, hold my calls, please.”
Gaudin’s office was a comfortable place. He had a large mahogany desk, and leather chairs that were both comfortable and somehow strong. The office conveyed the personality of the man.
He sat behind his desk as Fiona fell into a chair before it.
“I was expecting you,” he told her.
“I suppose the entire city has heard by now,” she said. She leaned forward. “August, the girl was murdered by a vampire. I’m sure of it. She was drained of blood. Completely. The wretched creatures are at it again!”
“Now, Fiona, that’s not necessarily true,” August told her. “First, we all know that—”
“Yes, yes, there are ridiculous human beings out there who think they’re vampires, who even cut each other and drink each other’s blood.”
