The vampire sitting behind the desk was…unimpressive. If a mouse suddenly became a man, this was exactly what he’d look like after being turned into a vampire. So, a mouse with fangs. Short in height—possibly even shorter than Foxx—with a round face, large ears, and big eyes. Not to mention the overbite and brown hair. Just a mouse of a man.
Harlow had been teasing Foxx about the gothic comment. However, he was now wondering if all these clubs looked like a gothic paradise because of the idiots who ran them. Just these completely normal-looking vampires deciding that this was what people wanted without talking to anyone with a fully functioning brain. Though, he supposed Foxx’s idea for a club would be bright colors and ‘cute’ stuff, so not exactly what the general population would want either. Then again, maybe not. His house wasn’t like that. Perhaps, he just wanted something less extreme and more casual, or possibly sophisticated.
“I understand you are here on business… I’m Arnold Finlin. H-how can I help?” the vampire practically squeaked his words out.
Harlow stared wordlessly. This man couldn’t be real.
Foxx cleared his throat when Harlow didn’t say anything. “Well, we are here to investigate a string of murders. We want to know what you and your staff know about these individuals.” Foxx pulled out the set of photographs they printed at the police station from his overall front pocket. Spreading out a total of forty-three pictures on the desk.
Harlow would never admit it, but the number was a bit concerning. If there were that many humans involved…how many vampires were?
“I mean, surely there must be some mistake. None of my customers would ever—”
“Cut the crap.” He rolled his eyes in irritation. Why did so many business owners always love to claim such bullshit? “You know something is going on. We know something is going on. You, no doubt, have been questioned by the police. Just tell us if you have any information on any of these people, and if you have seen any of them tonight.”
The man stuttered. “W-well, I have to think about my business.” Arnold puffed out his chest in a pathetic attempt at posturing.
Foxx glanced at Harlow, looking unimpressed by this whole thing, and mouthed, ‘Is he serious?’. Harlow shrugged.
“Yes, well, how bad will it be for your business when it comes out that people have been disappearing and showing up dead from your bar? Or do you think we will just stay quiet about it? How’s the 4 o’clock news for you?” Harlow asked with a vicious smile.
“Wait!” Arnold screeched. “I’ll look.” The vampire leaned forward. “I don’t recognize any of them…besides from in the pictures the police showed me. To be honest, I am not really at the club much. I’m more the financer than…hands-on.”
That explained a lot. “Fine, then tell your people they are free to talk to us, so we can actually speak to those who may have seen something.”
“I-I can do that.” The mousy man nodded.
Thirty minutes later, they were set up at one of the high tables around the edges of the club, and had spoken to all the bartenders and were on the bouncers, when they finally found someone who recognized one of the people in the pictures. And it happened to be the man who had taken them back to meet the owner—named Rick Jaden, apparently.
“Him.” Rick pointed to one of the photos. It was of Rob Destin. The kid looked young, had short blond hair, brown eyes, and it looked like he still had some baby fat to lose in his cheeks. Like the kid was still growing into his features. If Harlow was remembering right, Rob was twenty-one. “I’m almost positive he is a regular. I only recognize him as he has bumped into me a few times. But if he is up to no good, then he probably did it on purpose. I am the head of security. The police did ask me about him, but I didn’t see him with any of those who had gone missing. And as far as I know, he had only been caught on film with two of the victims. I wonder if he made sure he was out of the sight of security whenever he approached the others.”
“It’s a good theory,” Harlow mused as he stared at the picture.
Rick made a humming noise before saying, “Good news is, you two may be in luck.”
“In what way?” Foxx asked.
“The guy appears on a pretty regular schedule. If he isn’t here now…he should be here soon.”
“Then we will be around,” Harlow grunted.
The guy nodded. “If I see him, I’ll nab him for you. I’ll let the rest of the guys know as well,” Rick said as he headed back into the crowd.
Foxx gathered up the photos and slipped them back into his front pocket. “We splitting up?”
“Yep.” Harlow pulled out a small bag from one of the inner pockets of his leather jacket. Opening it, he pulled out a set of earpieces and clip mics, handing a set to Foxx. “Get it on, and let’s start walking around.”
* * *
Foxx had been squeezingthrough the crowd, trying to catch sight of the fucker they were looking for…but the whole thing swiftly became too much of a pointless pain in the ass. It didn’t help that he was short, which made it harder to see everyone’s face.
Moving back, he leaned against the wall and peered out into the crowd. Glaring at the too-tall people in his way, he decided; fuck the normal way. Besides, no one would know if he used powers he shouldn’t have. No one could see inside his head. No one could prove he used them, thus demonstrating he was older than his ID claimed. How would they know?
Decision made, Foxx reached into the pool of power of his Fates Bloodline, and he let the vale fall into place over his eyes. There were so many people, so there was still a lot to search through, but…eventually, he was able to block out the other strings, and pick out the ones of those who were of the same age as the male they were looking for.
It took another few moments to discard other genders. Finally, he had narrowed it down to twenty.
“Time for the real search to begin.” Foxx giggled to himself.
