"Since the beginning of March, two mortals have been killed in Central Park, their throats slashed," Roman explained.
"To cover up bite marks," Angus concluded. It was an old vampire trick. "So the Malcontents started this, and the slayer is exacting revenge."
"Yes," Roman agreed. "After those mortals were murdered, I threatened to run Katya and her coven out of the country. So it's logical for her to assume we're the ones retaliating."
"Aye. No one would ever believe a mortal capable of killing a vampire." Angus frowned. This was lousy timing. He didn't have time to go hunting for some mortal slayer, not when Casimir was growing his army by transforming criminals and murderers into vampires. The evil vampires needed to be stopped before they outnumbered the good Vamps and another war erupted. No doubt that was exactly why the Malcontents were stirring up trouble at this time. They wanted to distract Angus and his employees from their true purpose.
"Hi, guys!" The door swung open, and Gregori strode inside. "What's up?" His grin faded as he studied everyone's faces. "Sheesh, you look like you've been to a funeral. What happened, MacKay? Did you get a run in your fancy knee socks?"
"They're called hose," Angus grumbled.
Gregori snorted. "Oh, that's manly. Wait, I know what happened. You put your kilt on backwards and when you sat down, ouch! Your little sword-shaped kilt pin poked you in the ass."
Angus arched an eyebrow at Gregori, then glanced at Connor. "How can it be that ye havena killed this one?"
Gregori blinked. "Excuse me?"
Roman chuckled as he fumbled in a desk drawer. "Play nice while I'm gone."
"Ye're leaving?" Angus asked.
"I'm going to Shanna's doctor appointment with her." He set a bottle of reddish-amber liquid onto the desk. It boasted a shiny gold label that said Blissky. "This is for you, Angus. We start selling it next week."
"Och, good." Angus stood and picked up the bottle. He'd been waiting for Roman to finish his latest Fusion Cuisine drink. "I've sorely missed the taste of good Scotch whisky."
"Enjoy." Roman headed for the door. "I'll be back in an hour or so. Gregori will let me know what you decided."
Angus dragged his eyes away from the bottle of Blissky. Why was Roman's mortal wife going to the doctor at night? "Is there a problem with the bairn?"
"No. Everything's fine." Roman avoided looking at Angus.
Bugger. There was a problem. The monk had always been a lousy liar.
"Boy, you should see Shanna. I swear she's huge." Gregori spread his arms wide enough to indicate a hippopotamus.
Roman cleared his throat.
Gregori winced. "But she's still as lovely as ever."
Roman smiled faintly. "I'll talk to you later, Gregori. And thank you, Angus, for helping us find this slayer."
Angus smiled back. "Ye know me, I'm always ready for a good hunt." When Roman shut the door, he turned to Connor and Gregori. "All right, you two. What's wrong with the bairn?"
"Nothing." Connor slanted Gregori a warning look.
"Yeah, right." Gregori rolled his eyes, then circled the desk to sit in Roman's chair.
Angus frowned as he opened the bottle of Blissky. He'd get the truth out of Gregori later.
"Back to business." Connor dropped his folder on the desk. "These are the profiles and photos of the Stake-Out team, minus Austin Erickson, who's working for us now."
Angus yanked out the cork and was rewarded with the smell of fine Scotch whisky. "Maybe Austin knows who the slayer is."
Connor winced. "He does. He told me last summer he'd convinced the slayer to stop."
"Bloody hell, he dinna say who it was?"
"Nay." Connor sighed. "I should have pressed him harder. I tried calling him just now, but he and Darcy have gone undercover in Hungary, looking for Casimir."