wrong conclusion, which, given my track record of late, wouldn’t be surprising either.
“He’s an expert stalker, too,” I said. “Dana never heard him coming. Joey didn’t have any warning. Even a druid god didn’t hear him attack. I’m sure he was following me in the parking lot, but I only heard the odd footfall, saw one flash of movement. And I couldn’t pick him up with my sensing spell.”
Lucas glanced across his shoulder at me. “So you’re suggesting that Esus may have been mistaken, that our killer may indeed be noncorporeal, a demon or another entity.”
“I wouldn’t call it a demon,” I said. “Though some may argue the point. The kind of entity I’m thinking of lives right here in our world. The killer took down a two-hundred-plus-pound trained bodyguard. Felled him like a tree. That doesn’t happen by jabbing him in the back with a hypodermic. He’d still have had a moment or two to fight. This kind of killer has a special way to incapacitate his victims. But so far, he’s only used it twice—on Dana and this guard. That’s why both had neck injuries. To cover the marks. Marks that are very difficult to detect, but ones that I’m sure every Cabal autopsy looks for.”
“A vampire bite,” Lucas said.
Cassandra nodded. “That would be my interpretation as well.”
I bit back the urge to scream, “And when the hell were you going to say so?”
Lucas turned into our hotel parking lot. “The only problem with that scenario is that I can’t imagine what grudge a vampire could possibly bear against a Cabal.”
“I’m sure you couldn’t,” Cassandra murmured.
Lucas’s eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. “No, Cassandra, I can’t. But if you can, perhaps you could tell us.”
For a moment, she said nothing. Then she sighed, as if put upon once again to explain the obvious.
“Cabals will have nothing to do with vampires,” she said.
“Precisely,” Lucas said. “They have a strict policy against dealing with either werewolves or vampires, which is why I can’t imagine…” He stopped, then looked through the mirror at Cassandra. “Or, perhaps, that is not so much the argument against such a possibility as for it.”
“For money and power, the Cabals are the biggest game in town,” I said. “Maybe someone’s tired of being kept off the playing field.”
Stand-in Mother-in-law
WE RETURNED TO OUR HOTEL ROOM. JAIME HEARD US COME in and zipped over for an update.
“So my spook wasn’t trying to get you to contact Cassandra,” Jaime said, popping the top off a Diet Pepsi. “It just wanted to tell us that we’re looking for a vampire.”
“Probably,” I said. “Salem’s Lot is about vampires, and Cassandra would be the vampire I know best. So that fits the theory. This does change the possible motivation, though. It doesn’t take nearly as much to send a vamp on a killing spree. They’re already expert killers—it’s not as big a deal for them. I’d say we now have two more likely motivations. One, a vampire tried signing up with the Cabals or cutting a deal with them, got rebuffed, and decided to show them why you don’t mess with the undead. Two, a vampire is just pissed off in general at the Cabal no-vampire policy and is making a statement.”
“A crusading vampire?” Jaime said. “The only vamps I’ve ever met aren’t exactly the altruistic type.” She glanced at Cassandra. “Exhibit one.”
Cassandra gave her a cool stare. “Ah, yes. And remind me again why you’re here? More to do with a nagging spirit than a nagging conscience, if I recall correctly.”
Jaime flushed. “Well, I’ve solved that problem and I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“So your ghost is still being quiet?” I asked.
“So far, so good.”
“Cassandra,” Lucas said. “If we are dealing with a vampire, then this is your area of expertise. Given Paige’s two possible motivations, should we consider both equally or concentrate on a revenge scenario?”
“Vampires are capable of crusading for a cause,” she said, easing onto the sofa. “Though typically only one that benefits vampires, as this one would. You’d be looking for a young vampire. As with any race, the youngest are the most idealistic, the most likely to work for change. The older ones know their energies are better spent pursuing more realistic, individualistic causes.” She slanted a look at Lucas and me. “You’ll learn that soon enough.”
“Not if I can help it,” I murmured.
“The pursuit of righteousness is romantic, immature, and, ultimately, self-destructive, Paige. One would think you’d have learned that lesson this spring with Samantha.”