The vault at the bank turned up more questions than answers. Like everything else with the case, nobody seemed clear about anything. From what they could tell, the body had just materialized inside the vault. The employees were as clueless as they were upset. So, having wasted a bulk of the day, they drove to Shelby Fontaine’s apartment, situated inside a renovated industrial warehouse with converted lofts. She apparently had money to burn as well.
“Are you fidgeting?” Jackie let her fist drop to her side and brought the Starbucks cup up to her lips. She glanced at the number on the door of Shelby Fontaine’s apartment and back at Laurel.
“No,” she said firmly. A bit too firmly to be believed. “I’m fine.”
“You were fidgeting,” Jackie replied, unsure if she should be amused or worried. “Because of the whole ghost thing?”
Laurel shrugged. “Yeah. I’m just stressing on this case, that’s all. You know, chasing after people who may already be dead.” She smiled at Jackie, but Jackie didn’t buy it.
“You said earlier that you didn’t think they were actually dead-just felt that way.”
“I know, sounds crazy.”
“Yeah, it’s fruitcake crazy. Not supposed to be chasing after vampires. We aren’t supposed to do that kind of shit, but here we are.”
Laurel merely smiled back and nodded.
“You sure you’re okay?”
Laurel reached over and pounded briskly on the door. “I’m fine, damnit. Focus on the case.”
The door opened almost immediately, so fast that Jackie wondered if Shelby had been listening on the other side. “Agents Carpenter and Rutledge. Please come in.”
Said the spider to the flies. Jackie pushed down her nagging annoyance at the woman. It was her job to be somewhat objective, and it was more than the facade she always had going on. She got the feeling the woman was far more dangerous than she appeared. The information they had indicated little, other than that Hauser figured she had to be over one hundred years old. She had done a lot of things in her various incarnations, but nothing obviously illegal beyond some traffic violations and disturbing the peace.
Shelby wore knee-length black spandex and a University of Illinois T-shirt. A pale blue towel was draped around her neck, her wet hair pulled back into a ponytail.
“This a good time?” Laurel said.
Jackie wanted to smack her. Did it matter? She gave Laurel a stern glance and crossed the threshold. “Thanks. I’m glad you decided to speak with us, Ms. Fontaine. Your boss has been less than forthcoming.”
She laughed-a deep, throaty sound leaving no doubt about her amusement. “Nick has it down to an art, Agent Rutledge. He would prefer to tell you absolutely nothing or just enough to make you go away.”
The inside of Shelby’s apartment was an interesting contrast of old Chicago warehouse loft and Victorian England. The furnishings were all antiques, in pristine condition by the look of things, but Jackie was far from an expert on furniture. The place would be featured in some home magazine. The kitchen was partially enclosed on one side of the large space, with a bedroom loft above it. An enormous four-poster bed swathed in gauzy curtains shrouded the area in a cloudy haze. Above them, a large glass chandelier illuminated the space. Outside, Chicago’s wind whipped a light rain against the great wall of windows.
Shelby grabbed a gray sweatshirt off one of the sofas and walked toward the kitchen. “Anything to drink? I’ve got tea and water, but no coffee. Sorry, Agent Rutledge.” She flashed a charming smile over her shoulder at Jackie.
What the hell was that for? “Thanks. I’m sure I’ll manage.”
“Tea,” Laurel said, clearing her throat. “Tea is fine.”
“Earl Grey?”
“Um, yes. That’d be nice.”
Jackie turned to Laurel, a questioning eyebrow cocked up, but Laurel refused to look at her, instead sitting down on one of the pretty little sofas with its frilly throw pillows. Preferring to walk, Jackie kept slowly perusing the space, stopping to idly check on a Tiffany lamp or an old painting on the wall.
A few moments later, Shelby came out with a tray holding a lavishly painted tea set with a pot and two cups. It certainly struck an interesting contrast to the BMW-biker-chick motif she walked around with. Jackie didn’t give her time to stop serving. She was tired of waiting.
“Look, Ms. Fontaine,” Jackie said. “The tea is nice and all, but you said you had the whole story for us.”
Shelby dropped a cube of sugar into Laurel’s tea and handed the cup to her, her hand lingering on Laurel’s for just a moment longer than necessary. Laurel’s faint smile faltered for a second, but Shelby’s flashing teeth and full, lush lips brought it back. “Patience, Jackie. When you’ve been around as long as I have and lived with Nick Anderson, you learn to have some.”
Jackie took a deep breath. “Look, Ms. Fontaine. I don’t know how seriously you take this situation, but I do. I’ve got blood-drained children. I’ve got a suspect and his business partner slash former lover slash fiance slash whatever, who aren’t really what they appear to be. You and Mr. Anderson have given us nothing but bullshit from the outset, and one or both of you have been lying about this whole thing from the beginning. You tell me that you’re out hunting because there will be a next victim soon. Excuse me if I’m a little short on patience today.”
Shelby grinned at Jackie, and without turning back to face Laurel, said, “Is she always such a hard-ass?”
Laurel paused, assessing her reply. “Pretty much.”
“Explains why Nick finds her so appealing.”
Laurel nearly spit her tea back into her cup, and Jackie found herself momentarily speechless.
“What?” Jackie said.
“Appealing,” Shelby repeated, smirking at Jackie. “He likes you, Agent Rutledge. Your hard edges suit him.”
Jackie avoided glancing at Laurel, who she was sure had some smarmy look on her face. “You would think he’d be a bit more cooperative if he liked me, Ms. Fontaine. I hardly think there is any interest there.”
“If I’m going to help you, Agent Rutledge, you can start by calling me Shelby. I hate Ms. Fontaine. Makes me sound like a third-grade teacher.”
Jackie shrugged. “Fine. Shelby. So what’s the real story?”
Shelby took a deep breath and drank down the rest of her tea. Jackie studied her, wondering if she might be preparing the next round of lies or if indeed she meant to help. After she set down the teacup, Shelby looked up directly at her, those eyes glowing even brighter than Nick’s had. Laurel’s words about them being dead ran through her head, and Jackie looked away.
“First off, I’ll tell you that Nick has been silent in an effort to protect you, Agent Rutledge.”
“I don’t need protecting,” she said. “This is my job, Shelby. Not his.”
“Not just you. Laurel, too. Anyone not personally involved in this.”
Laurel inched forward toward Shelby, her hands steepled under her chin as if she were in prayer, attention riveted.
Jackie wondered what she could be doing. Maybe it was some kind of psychic thing. “Except we are involved. What makes this ghost so bad? He sounds much like any other psycho we’ve dealt with before.”
She gave Jackie a wry smile. “For one, he’s a vampire, not a ghost.”
Jackie ignored the sharp inhalation of breath from Laurel, who glanced up at her with a moment of “I told you so” fear.
“The FBI is pretty adept at handling even the worst cases. Drinking blood doesn’t come close to topping our list of worst-case scenarios.”
“That’s the least of your concerns,” she said.
“Well, why don’t you tell us what we should be concerned about then? It’s about time we got some real information out of you two.”
Shelby took a sip from her tea and then got up to walk around. “The man’s name is Cornelius Drake. At least, that’s the name he’s been going by. I don’t know what his real name is.”
The name didn’t ring any bells for Jackie. “Okay, we’ll check that out.”
“Like I said,” she continued, “he’s a vampire, meaning he needs to consume blood to stay alive. Without an adequate supply, he’d be as dead as the day he should’ve died.”
Shelby’s explanation lost her. “What do you mean that he should’ve died?”
Shelby continued pacing, making her way over toward the kitchen. “Some time in the past-who knows when-Cornelius Drake should have died. Something happened that was going to end his life, but he was able, through consuming blood, to draw upon the life force held within that blood to keep himself in the world of the living.”
“And how the hell did he do that?”
Shelby opened her refrigerator and reached inside. She came out with a metallic bottle in her hand. “I don’t know. Someone must have showed him.”
Jackie couldn’t help but be skeptical. The whole thing sounded so absurd. “That’s handy. Here, drink this and you’ll live forever?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that,” she said. “You have to want it. You need a certain force of will for it to work. At least, I think so.”
Laurel’s voice, shaky and quiet, spoke up. “So that means you and Nick?”
Shelby nodded with a little shrug of a shoulder. “Yes. We’re vampires, too.”
Jackie could tell by Laurel’s expression that there was no disagreement. Lovely. The whole far-fucking-fetched story was true. “This Drake guy show you how?”
She shook her head. “Showed Nick. Nick showed me.”
“Wait. What?” Jackie stared incredulously at the metallic bottle being offered to her by Shelby. “Nick turned you into a vampire? What’s this?”
“Yes, he did. And that,” she said, “is the worst-tasting shit you will ever drink.”
“What is it?”
“Synthetic blood.”
Jackie nearly dropped the bottle. “Blood? This is what you drink?”
She nodded. “Yep. Developed by Nick and his brainiacs over at Bloodwork Industries.”
Jackie handed the bottle off to Laurel, who looked far more intrigued by it than she was. The notion of bottled blood creeped her out. “I see.”
“Why did Nick turn-or, um, show-you how to be a vampire?” Laurel asked, turning the bottle over in her hands.
At that, Shelby gave a sardonic little laugh. “Because he couldn’t let me die.”
“Care to explain?” Jackie said.
“Drake had shot me,” she replied. “This was back in 1934. My guts were practically on the floor, and I was going to die. Nick couldn’t bear to let Drake win, so he did what he thought was his only option.”
Jackie tried to consider if she would want to stay alive if the option were to consume blood to keep living. No. Not a chance in hell. “Why would he do that to you?”
She smiled at Jackie, wistful and knowing. “Love can make you do strange things.”
“That it can,” Laurel whispered.
Jackie gave Laurel a sidelong glance, who turned her gaze quickly away and then held up her teacup. “Can I have a bit more, please?”
Shelby flowed around the couch with the smooth grace of a dancer. “Certainly.”
A knot formed in Jackie’s gut. What was up with Laurel? She was being no use at all with this. “All insanity aside, why not come forward with this? No laws have been broken. Law enforcement is far different now than in 1970.”
“I promised Nick a long time ago that I would never expose him or what was going on. The decision was his to make.”
“It’s getting people killed is what it’s doing,” Jackie stated. “You’ve obviously had no luck stopping him to this point.”
“Agent Rutledge… Laurel.” Shelby turned and gave a sweet little smile to Laurel. “You need our help. We need yours. Nick has a lot of blood on his hands and would rather this played itself out without any additional casualties.”
“Chivalrous of him,” Jackie said. “It’s obstruction, too. I should have him arrested.”
The smile on Shelby’s face vanished. “You can’t arrest him. At least, not yet.”
“I didn’t say I was, but I-”
“No.” Shelby shook her head. “Drake will come after him no matter where he is. You won’t be able to stop him.”
Jackie avoided rolling her eyes. Cocky bitch. But her earnestness gave Jackie pause. “Why is this guy so dangerous that even the FBI can’t handle him?”
Shelby’s smile was more of a wince. “He can do things we don’t quite understand. He has power that goes beyond just drinking some blood. Trust me, I know.”
No. Jackie was pretty sure she didn’t want to know about that, but what choice did she have? They needed information. “Give me an example.”
“He can travel in ways that make him untrackable. We’ll sense him someplace, and then, just like that, he’ll be gone. That’s just an annoyance, though, compared to the real power we have, which is this kind of hypnotic control over people.”
“Hypnosis?” Not a trick Jackie had ever had any faith in, but she knew of its possible effects. “So all that movie crap is true?”
She laughed, a bubbling, lively sound that filled the room. “God, no. I love garlic. Crucifixes don’t burn my flesh, and I don’t sleep in a coffin. The sun, however, does bother me.”
“So the whole bright-eyes thing? That’s an effect of being a vampire?” Under other circumstances, Jackie would have laughed at this line of questioning. Even working with Laurel, who had spoken to a ghost or two in her lifetime, would not have taken her into the realm of vampires.
“Oh, these,” Shelby said, her fingers touching the skin beside her eyes. “They’re contacts.”
“I knew it!” Jackie had pegged something right about them at least.
“You don’t want to see the real thing.”
“Perhaps I do,” Jackie said with a defiant tilt of her head.
“Then maybe you’d like to spend the rest of the afternoon polishing my mahogany bedposts?”
“What?”
“It’s what I could have you doing if I caught you in my gaze long enough.”
“Seriously.” Jackie didn’t believe it. A look at Laurel, though, said otherwise. She half expected her to get up and go polishing. Was Shelby working some kind of vampire voodoo on her now?
“Yep.” Shelby nodded. “Unless it’s something that might get you killed. I can bend your will only so far.”
“I see.” Okay, she didn’t really. Jackie was half tempted to take Shelby up on that bet but thought better of it. “And Drake does this to his victims?”
“Yes. Only, there is no resisting him. You can’t say no.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she said. “You telling me this guy could make me just walk off a cliff to my death or pull out my gun and shoot myself in the head?”
“Basically, yes. Maybe not directly, but his power is such that he would give you a compelling reason to believe that walking off that cliff or shooting yourself in the head was the most appealing option available to you.”
All right, then. That notion set Jackie’s nerves on edge. “This why Nick is trying to keep everyone else out?”
“Yes. He knows that if you encounter him, the result will likely mean your death.”
Laurel sat up straight now. “Then how does he plan to stop him?”
“That’s the infuriating thing about Nick Anderson,” she said, her voice showing the first real signs of anger Jackie had heard. “I don’t think he’s planning on stopping him at all.”
“Wait.” Jackie held up her hand. “Hold on. He’s trying to keep us away from a murderer he isn’t trying to stop?”
“Oh, he’ll try,” she said. “Nick is alive today because he promised to try to stop him, but he’s sure he can’t. He’s just playing this game out until its inevitable conclusion, which with three more deaths will come to its horrible, mindless end.”
“What end is that?”
“Drake is going to kill Nick.”
“Ah.” Things were falling into place now. The history was making some twisted sort of sense. Jackie walked over and sat down next to Laurel. “Maybe you should give us your whole story, from the beginning.”
She laughed again. “You have a few hours?”
Jackie leaned back and folded her hands over her stomach. “Yeah. Yeah, we do.”