“She deserves a decent burial. No one should be tossed aside and forgotten no matter her supposed misdeeds, especially a girl so brutally cut down.”
Heany wasn’t impressed at all. “So purely from the goodness of your non-beating heart, you’re giving the girl a funeral.”
Tristan refused to be goaded by the confrontational tone. “It’s tomorrow night at Miller Edward’s Funeral Home should you care to attend. I’m sure Brandilynn will appreciate your concern.”
That shut the agents up for a moment. The living know souls sometimes don’t move on to wherever they’re supposed to go. The thought that one might show up at her own funeral was sobering, at the least.
Heany got back on track first. “Mr. Keith, if you had to hazard a guess as to who’s behind these killings, who would you say?”
“If I had the slightest idea, he wouldn’t be killing anymore.” For an instant, Tristan turned really vampy, his eyes going totally black and red-rimmed. A suggestion of long fangs glimmered over his lower lip for an instant. He calmed so quickly, it was tempting to think his reaction had been a trick of the eye.
His voice once more as smooth as butter, he said, “I think it must be an older vamp, pre-Industrial Revolution. They’re the ones that tend to withdraw from society. They become frustrated with not being able to keep up with this quickly changing world. I have eyes on all the known vampires for a radius of fifty miles who fit that description.”
“We’d like a list of those vampires.”
“Of course. Patricia?” Tristan called to his sister, who peered intently at her computer.
“Leave me your email address and I’ll have that information to you right away.” She gifted the two agents with an unpleasant rattlesnake-fanged smile.
With noticeable effort, Neuhaus tore his gaze from that grin to look at Tristan again. “Could there be a vamp in your territory you don’t know about?”
Tristan allowed anger to purse his features. “It is a possibility, though all visitors are supposed to make themselves known to the ruling vampire.
I had sudden insight. “Not likely though,” I whispered.
Augustus gave me a questioning look.
Watching Tristan pretend to be incensed the Ripper might be an interloper who had gained access to his territory without his knowledge, I told Augustus, “The killer has a witch working for him. Erica Ford isn’t likely to trust someone she’s not seen around. Why is Tristan lying to them?”
Augustus looked at Tristan for a long moment before returning his attention to me. “The prize of vengeance is not willingly awarded to others,” he whispered.
Cold crept through my body. “He wants to get this guy himself. To exact his own justice for the trouble the Ripper has caused him.”
I shuddered to realize that vampires could be bloodthirsty in more than one way.
* * * *
The agents left. The assembled paras settled down to what I supposed to be their usual business. It got pretty boring pretty fast. People typing on computers, asking Tristan to sign this or that, making phone calls to argue about various zoning ordinances … yawn.
Augustus was beautiful, smart and companionable. However, his inability to converse in anything but riddles and philosophical ruminations made for less than fulfilling discourse in the long run. Even debating the strengths and weaknesses of the Georgia Bulldogs versus the Florida Gators would have captured my interest at this point.
Once my killer was caught, it looked to be a long, tedious afterlife.
Three hours after the FBI’s visit, Penny, the pale blond vampire who wore too much black, approached Tristan. She said nothing, just quirked a toothy smile. Tristan nodded and rose from his desk.
“What’s with the secret handshake stuff?” I asked Augustus.
A beak can’t grin, but there was amusement in his attitude. “Follow the path. Though it be dark, it illuminates all.”
I watched Tristan straighten his jacket and adjust his tie before striding towards the door leading to the hotel lobby. “I should follow him? You mean, spy?”
“The beast feeds his hungers, and the yet unborn shall learn his ways.”
My skin crawled. “You mean he’s going to suck some blood? I definitely don’t want to watch that.”
“To love is to accept all of the beloved; that which delights and that which despairs.” Augustus pushed me after Tristan. His being solid and me incorporeal proved no hindrance at all. It felt as if he pushed right through me, but I was shoved along anyway.
I pushed back. “I only like him as a ghost. I don’t care anything about his vampire side.”
The griffin herded me along, implacable as a border collie, apparently intent on my watching Tristan leech off some blood groupie.