Replica(19)

Then he placed an envelope on the table and walked away.





CHAPTER 9





LEA



Clouds rolled in, darkening the evening sky. Fine by me. I pulled the cowl back and breathed in the night air, rolling it across my tongue. Finding a vampire was no easy task. Even when I was actively hunting them, I would sometimes go weeks, even months between sightings.

Now I had to find one in a matter of hours.

“Scene of the crime,” I said softly. Vamps were creatures of habit, and I knew of a place more than a few of them frequented.

Amore Sangre. The restaurant had been owned by my patron, Victor, whom I’d killed for lying to me and trying to entrap me. “Ass fuck.”

I made my way to the restaurant, staying on foot wherever possible. The city no longer felt like a bustling human metropolis. More like a potential crypt with the door slowly shutting in my face.

I shook my head and pushed back the analogies.

The restaurant loomed in front of me in no time. Ten stories high, the actual eatery was on the top floor. As I slipped into the building, I faced a decision. Elevator or stairs?

My hesitation was minuscule. Stairs. Again, easier to maneuver. As I climbed, I went over in my head what we needed. The place Stravinsky had fucked off to. What he was doing. Who else was involved.

“Simple,” I breathed out.

At the top of the building, I paused and peered back the way I’d come. No sound of footsteps behind me, no scent of anyone following. But I couldn’t throw the feeling I was being watched. Swiveling around, I panned the walls for a camera. Nothing.

I pushed through the door that led out of the stairwell. The front of the restaurant was done up in lovely wood paneling and the doors were shut. I walked up to them and tried the handle.

The knob twisted in my hand and I stepped into the semi-darkness. From the right, a sharp wind blew through the windows I’d busted out the week before. Glass still glittered on the floor, and there had been no obvious attempt at cleaning up.

But the scent of cooking beef and fresh vegetables teased my nose, so someone was home and busy cooking. I headed toward the kitchen, following the smells.

A few pots clanged together, then nothing but a low muttering no one but me would have heard.

“I hate you, you bastard.”

Interesting.

Curiosity and the need for answers pulled me forward even though I knew things didn’t add up. The restaurant was obviously closed, yet someone was cooking. I paused at the swinging doors and listened.

“Damn you, Victor. I was a rising star.” The bang of a knife in a cutting board, the thunk of something being cut into. It probably said something for the state of my mind that my first thought was that the cook was probably dismembering the sous chef.

I put a hand on the door and stepped into the kitchen. The chef had his back to me, and there were only vegetables on the board, no sous chef.

“What did Victor do to you?”

The chef spun around, his knife raised. “Oh my God. Don’t do that to me. I could have cut you in half!”

“I doubt that.” I took a few more steps into the room, trailing a hand along the stainless steel appliances. I hardened my voice. “Answer me. What did Victor do to you?”

He pointed the knife at me. “You can’t be in here.”

I slammed the flat of my hand into the refrigerator, concaving the outer shell. “I’m losing patience, boy.”

His face paled at a rapid rate. “Oh, shit me out on a piece of toast. You’re one of the blood drinkers.”

“Answer me.” I was close enough that he could have stabbed me. But he seemed smarter than that.

“He ruined me. I...” Light brown eyes flicked up to mine and then away as he slumped against the counter. “I was the talk of NYC. But when he disappeared, someone leaked documents claiming I’d been using tainted meat. That people were getting Hep A from eating here.”

I frowned. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he’s an asshole? I don’t know.”

There had to be a better reason. Victor was an asshole, on that I agreed. But he had never ruined someone without reason.

“What happens when a kitchen gets condemned like this?”

He waved his knife around. “In our case, the FDA came in with the CDC hot on their tails.”

“For Hep A?” My eyes widened. “Seems like overkill, don’t you think?”

He grunted. “Not for a restaurant like this one. Lots of patrons with lots of money. Money greases wheels, if you haven’t noticed.”

Whatever had been hidden here was probably long gone, but I drew in a deep breath and held the air, tasting it. “Let me see the freezers.”

“They’ve been shut off. They aren’t cold.”