“Bravo,” Valtu says from the piano, grinning up at me as he trails his long fingers over the keys with flourish. “You did good, kid.”
“As did you,” I say, taking a little bow. We just finished a simple rendition of “Embraceable You,” which we both pulled off better than I thought. Not that I doubtedtheDracula’s musical skills, but because the notes of the song are very low, I wasn’t sure I could make it sound good. But human blood does a wonder on you.
“Here,” Abe says, filling up my glass of red wine and handing it to me. “You deserve to relax after that.”
I take it from him and have a dainty sip. “I should watch myself,” I say, even though it takes an awful lot to get us drunk because of our metabolism. “Need to drive back home.”
“You’re staying the night,” Abe insists, in a way that I know I can’t argue with him. “Please. Now come, sit down. We have a lot to talk about. I know you didn’t just come here to feed.”
He guides me to the couch and sits me down. The fog still wraps around the deck and the floor-to-ceiling windows, making us look enveloped in another world.
Valtu stays where he is on the piano bench, lighting a cigar, while Adonis hands him a Scotch in a squat glass before making his way over to the sectional adjacent to me, where Ezra is already sitting.
Abe perches on the couch beside me, hand on my thigh in an encouraging way, leaning forward with sympathy etched on his fair face. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend,” Abe says. “Elizabeth Short. What a horrible thing that happened to her.”
I sigh, sinking into the couch. My thoughts feel sharper than ever, but unfortunately my emotions do too.
“I’ve been trying to find her killer,” I tell them. “You know. Like I’m in a Raymond Chandler novel or something. But I think…I think I’m in a little over my head.”
“How so?” Ezra asks.
I start by telling them about what Betty said to me the night before she went missing, the diary she left. I talk about the Europeans she mentioned, then meeting Callahan, Marco, the stalker, everything that’s happened since Januaryeighth.
“Callahan,” Valtu muses. “That’s who you were thinking of earlier. The one who has your heart and soul.”
I give Dracula the dirtiest look I can muster, enough that he flinches slightly. “You weren’t meant to hear that thought.”
“Have you slept with him?” Abe asks.
I balk at that, my mouth dropping open. “What kind of question is that?”
“Just want to know how involved with this human you are,” Abe says. “See if there’s a chance to stop you before it’s too late.”
“Stop me?”
He gives me a tired look. “Lena. It’s bad enough that you’re with one of Cohen’s enforcers. Don’t make things morecomplicated by falling for a PI. You know how it should be. Vampires stay with vampires. Humans are too fallible. Fragile. Mortal. There’s never a happy ending, is there?”
Though Valtu doesn’t say anything, I find myself looking at him, drawn by a change in his energy. It’s like a darkness swirls around him while he stares down into his glass. He lost someone. That’s who he’s been looking for in every face.
“I’m not in love with Callahan,” I say, bringing my attention back to Abe. “Nor Marco for that matter. They are just men. Means to an end. A girl has to have fun too.”
“I agree. But try not to have it with someone who we can’t afford to dig any deeper,” Abe says. “There are enough vampires in this city to go around. Hell, there might even be vampires working for Cohen, if that kind of danger is what you’re looking for. But there’s safety in staying with who we are. It protects our society. It keeps us hidden. And it stops us from having to experience the bite of mortality.”
I fall silent. He’s right, of course. I know he is. I know that Callahan is someone I need to stay away from me, at least in an emotional, physical way. If we want to solve this case together it has to stay professional and nothing else. I have more willpower than that.
“I suppose I’m lucky,” I say between a long swig of wine. “I only got one lecture while here.”
Everyone laughs, even Valtu.
“Well, I was going to remind you to not go so long between feedings, but from the way you took care of dinner, I think you learned your lesson,” Abe says, playfully touching his shoulder against mine.
Valtu puffs on his cigar and jerks his chin at me. “Well, what do you say, kid? Another song?”
“It would be my pleasure,” I say, happy to put this conversation behind me.
I get up, finish the rest of my wine, and take my place at the piano.
I’m bowingto thunderous applause again.