"That is—was—one of his favorite music venues. He'd been planning to go there last night."
"Why was he carrying one of their business cards if he went there regularly?"
"I don't know."
Color me shocked, I wanted to snap, but wisely resisted the urge. "So he might have picked up his killer there?"
"Possibly. Dark Soul is not a vampire venue. It caters to all races who enjoy alternative music."
"Well, it wasn't a human who killed him." Not unless Spider-Man was fact rather than fiction.
"Of course not," she said coolly. "Wolfgang was a powerful vampire. He would not have been taken easily by anyone—or any race."
And yet he'd sat there and allowed himself to be bound by a web and then sucked dry. I rubbed my arms against the chill that stole across my skin. How could anyone—powerful or not—allow something like that?
"Which means either he was drugged, or there was some form of magic involved." And if it was the former, was there enough of him left to find a trace of it?
"Yes." Hunter's voice still held little emotion, yet it hinted at a fury so deep it scared the hell out of me. "Which is why I wanted you to investigate. Whatever did this was not of this world. I'm sure of it. I want you to hunt it down, but do not kill it. That pleasure I reserve for myself."
Well, I wasn't about to argue over that particular order. "If we can find this thing, it's all yours."
"Oh, you had better find it, trust me." She paused, as if waiting for a comment, but what the hell was I supposed to say to a threat like that? After a moment, she continued. "I will arrange for you to talk to Dark Soul's owner and view their security tapes. Perhaps we can identify who—if anyone—he was there with."
"They're hardly likely to talk to me, given I'm not anything official—"
"That will be fixed," she cut in. "Keep me informed."
She hung up again. My fingers clenched the phone so tightly, my knuckles went white, and it was all I could do not to throw the damn thing and then stomp all over it in frustration.