York State driver’s license. The image was of . . . a dark-haired woman staring into the camera with dark eyes. Her height was listed as five six, she had corrective lenses, and she was an organ donor. The name was definitely Anna Sophia Laval.
“The address is different,” Blay murmured.
V tapped his hand-rolled over his ashtray. “This is her current address. I found the one on the note as her previous residence.”
“So this really is her,” Qhuinn said as he moved even closer to the image. Not that it got him any more information about her or any further acuity on her features. “But we don’t know if she’s one of us—or do we?”
“I’ve initiated a deep search into the species database from the Audience House. In about an hour, I’ll know more.”
Qhuinn continued to stare at that face. The photograph was not all that distinct, but even if it were in hard focus, it wasn’t going to tell him what he wanted to know.
For those questions, he was going to need to speak to the woman.
Or vampire.
Herself.
The Brotherhood House was typically at its most quiet between one and four p.m. in the afternoons. Those three hours were not only the dead zone between Last Meal cleanup and First Meal prep, they were when the doggen themselves retired to their quarters for a brief rest from all their other duties like housework, supply acquisition, and planning. So, yup, as Qhuinn sat propped up against the headboard in his and his mate’s bedroom, he just listened to all the silence. Beside him, sleeping on his stomach under a heavy load of covers, Blay was twitching like a Labrador chasing bunnies in his dreams.
“Shh,” Qhuinn said as he stroked his male’s bare shoulder. “Be easy.”
Instantly, his mate stilled. Then there was a turn of the head, Blay’s face now in his direction. A big inhale followed, and, finally, a slow exhale.
Qhuinn smiled to himself. “You just rest. I’ve got you.”
As Blay fell back into REM land, Qhuinn repositioned himself against the stack of pillows he’d punched up an hour ago, crossing his arms and staring across the dim room.
So odd.
V could find nothing on Anna Sophia Laval in any of the species databases or social media groups.
Therefore, it was either a code name that she and Luchas had used when together . . . or she was a human. But how was the latter possible? His brother hadn’t been raised like that. Not that Qhuinn cared one way or the other—but the family’s golden son? Falling in with one of those rats without tails?
He rubbed his face as the whens, wheres, and hows jogged around the inside of his skull like they’d had cocktails made of Adderall and Pepsi.
Insomnia sucked. And he had a feeling he’d better get used to it.
On that note, he leaned to the side, reached into the bedside table, and got his contraband iPad. Before turning the thing on, he compulsively opened the second drawer and made sure that the letters were where he’d left them. Maybe he should discreetly cut the flaps and take images of the contents? You know, on a just-in-case—except that seemed like an inappropriate violation of privacy.
Yup. Still there.
But really, like they weren’t going to be?
Shaking his head at himself, he fired up the iPad and wasn’t sure what he was going to do with it—except then he remembered his previous request of Vishous. Not the one about Anna Sophia Laval earlier in the night, but the other one from the evening before. Going into his email, he scrolled down the listing of spam and Amazon order confirmations. There was only one personal missive in the bunch—it was from V and he opened the thing:
Again, I’m really sorry about your brother, son. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.
When he checked the time stamp—because he was afraid of the attachments—he saw that the brother had sent what he’d requested a mere eight minutes after he’d asked for it.
V was a good guy. No matter what he tried to portray to the contrary.
There were four attachments, marked sequentially, and Qhuinn stared at them. It was a while before he could open the first of the videos, and when he did, a sense of not being able to breathe returned.
As the screen blacked out and then flared a gray and white, he propped the iPad on his knees and felt his eyes burn. The image was of the training center’s corridor, right