Don't Hex and Drive (Stay a Spell #2) - Juliette Cross Page 0,23

and store information.

“No name?” I asked, knowing damn well he wouldn’t give it to me.

He glanced at me sideways as he booted up the laptop. “We’ll see,” he answered cryptically, his voice husky and deep.

Ruben laughed.

He was enjoying this. As a Stygorn, I had access to extensive data and never had to break a sweat to get the most top secret information I needed for any reason. And here was this punk grim refusing to give me his name. I shook my head on a laugh.

Once his screen was open with a listing of video files labeled with dates, he angled the screen to face us, but he spoke to Ruben.

“You asked me how I knew the kidnappers were vampires.”

“Kidnappers plural?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he said with certain confidence. “My cousin developed software that tracks vampires.”

Ruben leaned forward, scowling. “Say that again.”

His light mood had vanished at the thought of vampires being tracked. My hackles raised, too.

The grim wasn’t affected in the least by Ruben’s death-glare. “Just listen,” he commanded.

And I do mean commanded. I wanted to laugh at the balls on this guy. But Ruben must’ve trusted him because he eased up, lacing his fingers in his lap.

The grim tapped his laptop screen on the file labeled Demo362. “Watch this. It’s surveillance that tracks heat signatures.”

An infrared birds-eye view of a street showed the heat signatures of people walking, some moving in and out of buildings.

“What is this?” I asked.

“This is a demo my cousin ran last year when he was developing the software. This is Bourbon Street on a Saturday night. As you see, some of these signatures are running hotter than others.” He pointed to some that were outlined more red-orange than others. “Those are vampires. Possibly witches. And this guy, you can tell he’s a werewolf.” He pointed to one person stalking down a side street, his signature deep, full red. “But check out this group here.”

He pointed to a group of five break off down an alley off of Bourbon, walking for half a block before the signatures blurred, flaring yellow as they disappeared off the screen. The screen zoomed out, revealing more of the dark city and the group who’d blurred away. They streaked six blocks away then stopped along Magazine Street before they slowed to walking again.

“Damn,” whispered Ruben. “I want to buy this software.”

The grim grinned, a devious glint in his eyes. “Not sure my cousin has plans to sell it just yet.”

“Then why create it?” I asked.

He tapped to minimize the video. “We have our own motives for tracking.” He turned to Ruben. “But in the case of these missing girls, he’s definitely willing to lend a hand.”

“How does he get these views of the city?” I watched the screen, realizing what a wide view he had of New Orleans and the suburbs surrounding.

“Government satellites, drones,” he answered nonchalantly.

Like just anyone had access to such a thing. I glanced at Ruben with an is-this-guy-for-real look? Ruben shook his head as the grim went on.

“So I talked to my cousin. I gave him the dates and locations of the girls’ disappearances.”

“He got them?” I asked, my pulse tripping faster.

“Only one.” He licked his lips, tapping on the laptop. “The thing is, this software is under development and has its limitations. If we know where to watch, then we can track them entirely using our own drones. But we don’t have cameras everywhere all the time.”

“So if they trace out of range, then you can’t follow?” asked Ruben.

“Exactly,” he answered. “Our range covers the city though.”

I leaned forward, wanting a better view of the laptop screen. “I can follow a vampire’s trace anywhere, as long as I’m within a few minutes of where he starts.”

The grim paused and angled a questioning expression at me, but it was Ruben who replied, “He’s a Stygorn.”

The grim’s brows raised and his mouth tilted, seemingly impressed. “Cool.”

He then clicked on a new video file labeled with the name Barrel Proof and the date of the last disappearance. Emma Thomas.

“I asked my cousin to focus on Magazine Street bars last week since that’s where the girls have gone missing. Since the three bars where the girls were taken were all within a few blocks of each other in the Garden District, I had a hunch our kidnappers stuck to familiar hunting grounds.”

A wide view of the city popped on screen with pinpoints of infrared movement, then slowly zoomed onto one building in particular. A few people walked casually in