his so-called democratic court warned of a fascist takeover. Rita said she was staying out of it, and Ari agreed that was a good idea.
Ari heard nothing from or about Andreas. She spotted Victor one evening at a rival club, talking with a big tattooed vamp. He didn’t see her or pretended he didn’t. Ari didn’t approach him. She thought maybe Lucien was right about one thing: she didn’t like vampires much. At best they were annoying.
During patrol Wednesday night, Ari thought about the events of the last few days. She realized she was driving her friends crazy. Obsessed with solving a case that seemed unsolvable, she’d bent Yana’s ear twice and bored Claris over coffee and innumerable phone calls. Despite these mental and verbal gymnastics, she was no closer to an answer.
Ari reached the end of her normal patrol route and turned onto the tree-lined street that led to her apartment building. The case replayed in her head for the umpteenth time. The four attacks: Goshen Park, Angela, Were Fest, the Second Chance Saloon. The werewolf presence. And Riverdale’s unique status as the only market with the altered Fantasy. She knew they fit together, in some way. In some mad scheme. And Molyneux was the key.
Alerted by a sudden breath of familiar magic, she spun around. Her pulse jumped as he moved toward her from the trees. “Why are you following me?” she demanded.
“My congratulations,” Andreas said as he drew near. “My presence is not usually noticed until I wish it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No,” he agreed. “It was a compliment. Wasn’t that what you wanted the night we met?”
Ari refused to be baited. And to show he couldn’t intimidate her, she turned her back and walked away. He caught up easily and fell into step. A soft, feathery sensation slid over her skin, a distinctive energy that flowed from him like a seductive fragrance.
“I heard you visited the club.”
“We came for the performance. My friends say you’re good.”
“You should return and judge for yourself. Any Thursday night.” His voice was measured, impersonal. In spite of his civil words, or maybe because of them, this didn’t feel like a social call. Something was up. Why was that always the case with Andreas?
“You weren’t there last Thursday,” she said.
“Unavoidable business. Not likely to happen again.” The subject was closed.
They continued in silence for two long, uncomfortable blocks, until she couldn’t stand it any longer. Ari stopped and turned to face him. “Why are you here?”
“Do you wish me to leave?” he countered.
“I wouldn’t mind. But do whatever you want.” She turned away. Why hadn’t she told him to go? Every past meeting had been awkward, potentially dangerous. Yet something about him continued to interest her. Her magic stirred. Yeah, that too.
“A young waiter from my club is missing,” he said, catching up with her again. “I thought you might be able to tell me what happened to him.”
“Me? How would I know? I don’t know any of your waiters. Or anyone else at the club, except you and Victor.”
“Marcus waited on you and your friends Thursday night. You were observed talking to him,” Andreas insisted.
“About the menu or drinks, maybe. I don’t remember him. What do you mean he’s missing?”
“He disappeared. Hasn’t reported to work or returned to his nest. Marcus is normally responsible, reliable. This is not like him.”
“And you think something bad happened?”
“The thought crossed my mind.”
She glanced at him then. “I still don’t get it. Why ask me?”
“It was suggested as a…possibility.”
“What kind of possibility? By who? I haven’t been notified of unidentified remains, bones or otherwise, if that’s what you mean.”
“That is good to know. But not exactly what I had in mind.”
“Then what?” She stopped and tried to read his face. She’d heard something off in his voice. “What are you trying to say?”
The vampire threw up his hands. “To be honest, I don’t know. This has been a bad week, and now Marcus has vanished. I feel responsible.”
Ari later wished she’d let it go, but she didn’t. “And you thought what? That I’d killed another vampire?” she asked with sarcastic brusqueness.
When Andreas didn’t respond right away, the truth hit her. Slapping one fist against her hip, she glared at him.
“That’s it. That’s exactly what you thought, isn’t it?” Her face flushed with sudden anger. “Who would suggest such a thing?” Her voice had risen. “Damn you, Andreas. That’s the real reason you’re here. You’ve decided I’m some sort of crazy vamp killer. It’s almost funny.”