Page 57 of The Mermaid's Bubble Lounge
“Yes. Fine. I’m getting up.” I checked my phone on the nightstand. It was already past noon. Shit. “Sorry, buddy.” I stumbled through the dark house and down the stairs to the first floor to fill up his food bowl. After I threw open the back door for him, I went back to refill his water and then just flopped the top half of my body on the counter for a quick rest.
“You’re late.”
I just about jumped out of my skin. “Well, that got the old heart going.” I turned to find Vlad’s dark eyes shining from the depths of the den. “Quit being a dick.”
“Is that any way to greet a guest?” he asked, sounding quite put out.
“You’re not a guest. You’re an intruder.” I went to the refrigerator and started pulling out ingredients for an omelette. I was starving. “Did Clive get a hold of Bram last night?”
“He left a message. The timing was off.”
I was making a four-egg omelette with cheese and the last of some leftover spicy ground beef. I poured a little salsa over the top, grabbed a fork and a glass of water, and then went out to the patio to eat.
“Nothing personal,” I called in. “It’s lovely out here and dark in there.”
I thought I heard him chuckle, but I wasn’t sure; the wind in the trees was loud today. Zipping up my hoodie, I dug into breakfast as Fergus flopped onto my feet.
After sending a quick text to Owen to explain my tardiness, I finished my food. When he sent one back letting me know it was all under control, I relaxed. I could have raced to get ready, but if The Slaughtered Lamb was covered, I could move at my own pace.
When I brought my empty plate in and closed the back door, Vlad said, “I need to tell you what happened last night.”
Shoulders slumped, I rinsed off my plate. “Damn it. What did he do?” I went to the den and sat on the couch opposite Vlad’s darker corner.
He flicked on the lamp beside him. “Russell called Clive after you went to bed. Two of his scouts located the pooka-cat and almost caught him, but he shifted into a seagull and flew off over the water.”
I blew out a breath. How were we ever going to catch this thing?
“Today, though, there are reports of a fisherman being attacked on his boat, which was found floating in circles. The fisherman was drained of blood and left on the deck of his boat.”
Fergus dropped his head in my lap and I leaned over to kiss it. “That poor man.”
“There’s more,” Vlad said. “This hasn’t been released to the media yet, but the nocturne’s human liaison sent me a video. Apparently, the fisherman was recording himself. He has an account where he posts sunrise videos. There is a brief image of the killer.”
My phone buzzed. I pulled up the incoming text and clicked on the link. The man was talking about the early morning on the bay and then there was a flash behind him. It was brief. The man was spun in the chair, causing the phone recording him to tip on its side, but for a half a moment Clive, with Vlad’s huge mustache, was standing behind the fisherman. Shit.
“You and I know what this is,” Vlad said, “but I don’t know that the authorities will.”
Shitshitshitshitshit. I dropped my head into my hands. “So even if we luck out and he moves on to his next chaotic mess, we get to look forward to security footage around the world showing you, Clive, or a combination of the two of you killing people from now on?”
“After five hundred and seventy years, I might have to shave my mustache off.” He ran his fingertips over it. “No. I’ll take my chances.”
I studied the video again, freezing on the pooka wearing a Clive costume. If I didn’t know, would I think that was Clive? As the Master of the City, Clive attended quite a few big charity events over the years. He’s known. “It appears to be Clive wearing a big, fake mustache in, like, the world’s lamest attempt at disguising himself. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so horrific. And if someone on the force recognizes his face and wants to question him, what do we do during daylight hours?”
“Call the liaison and let her know what’s happening. She’ll get the nocturne’s lawyer. He can negotiate an evening interrogation.” His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to deal with the authorities. What about you, though? Has Clive provided you with an ID and records?”
Vlad knew that up until quite recently, I’d lived much of my life off the grid.
I nodded. “We had to do that so I could get a driver’s license. Actually, he started the process before that so we could get a proper marriage certificate. He’s weirdly concerned with making sure every bank account, investment, and property has my name on it, so I had to exist to the government and banking organizations.”
“Nothing weird about it,” Vlad said. “Being a vampire is a dangerous business, and he has a wife, one who is herself long-lived. He’s making sure you’re provided for in the only way he can after he’s gone.”
My heart gave a squeeze and my throat tightened. I needed a minute. “It’s important to him that I’m surrounded by strong friends too.”
“And that you can defend yourself. In Budapest, when you were challenged, I thought he’d insist on fighting in your stead. When he didn’t, I was shocked—on the inside, of course. I pride myself on my lack of emotional displays. But when he finished with his opponent, he held himself in check and watched you. I could see what it was costing him to let you do it yourself.”
He shook his head, a smirk under his great mustache. “And then you held Dakila up by his hair and sliced through his neck with those claws of yours in the showiest fuck you to all the vampires discounting you. I thought Clive would burst with pride. I realized then that you were right when you told me my assessment of him was all wrong. I saw what I thought I’d see and never looked past the pretty face, the charm.” Vlad scratched the side of his nose. “I kind of hate him.”
I huffed out a laugh, breaking the fear paralysis holding me in place. I didn’t want to talk about or even think about trying to live without Clive. “By the way, you guys do know I’ll be telling George and Alec about Jade’s family, right?”
