Quit eavesdropping. What if I was thinking about how hot Ahmed was looking?
I’d be forced to rip his head off, darling. I’d imagine it would be difficult for you to find a pile of dust hot.
I gave him a dirty look, and he kissed my temple.
I don’t do it intentionally, he told me. Part of my brain is always focused on you and sometimes your thoughts drift in. Just to be clear, though, if you found another man attractive, I would not kill him. I might go into a dark room to mourn for a few years, but that would be the extent of it.
I grinned at him. An emo vampire. A teenaged girl’s dream.
His lips twitched.
And just to be clear on my side, I don’t think of other people the way I do you. I mean, Joao is objectively attractive, but he gives me the creeps. I wouldn’t want him anywhere near me. You, I always want near me. You’re the one who makes my heart race and butterflies flutter in my stomach. Only you make me feel comfortable, confident, and maybe even a little bit sexy. The world is filled with potential friends and enemies, but you’re my only love.
He lifted my hand to his lips. I have some work to do if I’m only making you feel a little bit sexy. You are a great deal more than that. And there’s nowhere I’d rather be than by your side, loving you in any way you’ll let me.
“It’s fascinating,” Bracken said. “They haven’t said a word and yet seemed to have had a complete and very affecting conversation.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Russell replied.
THIRTY-FOUR
Bracken Tries To Interview Everyone
“Oh,” I said, remembering. “I meant to ask. How did you know where to find us tonight?”
“Arwyn, of course.” Bracken glanced at the other vampires. “I have another great-niece who is a very powerful wicche. We worked together to create that spell to slow down the pooka’s transition. Unfortunately, it wasn’t slow enough for us to kill him tonight.”
“When you spoke with us last night,” Adaeze began, “you mentioned other events, not related to vampires, that you believed the pooka to be responsible for. I realize it’s only been a day, but do you have any other information for us?”
Bracken brought out a journal he had in his interior breast pocket. “Now, I can’t be sure, of course. A pooka hadn’t been identified as a possibility, but I do have other incidents that follow the pattern we’ve seen here and so make me believe they are the work of our current killer. I’ve actually been wondering if reports of a chupacabra in Puerto Rico in the nineties was really a pooka.
“Also interesting is a string of killings in the Pacific Northwest in the seventies. No one was ever arrested, but the prime suspect was a local sheriff. Multiple witnesses reported seeing a man who looked like him. They all identified his photo within an array of suspects, but his alibis were solid. A church congregation all swore he was at services. His wife submitted an affidavit that he was with her on one night in question. On another night, the dispatcher vouched for him, saying the two of them had been the only ones on duty all night. He took a lie detector test, and it came back as truthful.”
He flipped through his notes. “He doesn’t fit any of the attributes of a serial killer. Psych tests said he was a hard-working, honest man who was struggling under the weight of others’ suspicions. He was a man who prided himself on doing right and was being accused of killing innocents.
“As individual alibis,” he continued, “perhaps they could be doubted. Maybe he disappeared when no one noticed. Taken together, though, they don’t make sense—unless he has a twin.”
“Did he have a twin?” Ahmed asked.
Bracken shook his head. “Not according to the medical records from his mother’s hospital stay and her labor and delivery report.”
“So the pooka isn’t only targeting supernaturals,” Cadmael said.
“I don’t believe so,” Bracken responded. “But to Sam’s point earlier, the sheriff was a very good-looking man. He was tall, and muscular, part Native American, with light green eyes. He wore his hair in a long braid down his back. It was part of what made him so easy for witnesses to recognize. I think, though, like Vlad, the pooka found the Sheriff interesting and so wore his likeness for a while, killing innocents and destroying this poor man’s life.”
“How do we kill it?” Ahmed wondered.
“It seems interested in Sam—” Cadmael began.
“No.” Clive shut him down.
I put my hand on Clive’s thigh and felt his tense muscles. “We’ll do what we need to do to stop it.”
Clive placed his hand on top of mine and squeezed.
“We can table that for now,” Bracken said. “As to the other topic last night, may I contact the Silva family about their abducted daughter?”
“Silv—oh, Jade?” I asked.
