The thing on the floor cringed from the voice. Her lower body was becoming serpentine. A snake of some kind. Jesus.
"She's a lamia," I said softly. I backed away, putting the outside door to my back, hand on the door knob. "I thought they were extinct."
"She is the last one," Oliver said. "I keep her with me because I fear what she would do left to her own desires."
"Your creature that you can call, what is it?" I asked.
He sighed, and I felt the years of sadness in that one sound. A regret too deep for words. "Snakes, I can call snakes."
I nodded my head. "Sure." I opened the door and backed out onto the sunny porch. No one tried to stop me.
The door shut behind me and after a few minutes Inger came out. He was stiff with anger. "We most humbly apologize for her. She is an animal."
"Oliver needs to keep her on a tighter leash."
"He tries."
I nodded. I knew about trying. Doing your best, but anything that could control a lamia could play mind games with me all day, and I might never know it. How much of my trust and good wishes was real and how much of it was manufactured by Oliver?
"I'll drive you back."
"Please."
And away we went. I'd met my first lamia and perhaps the oldest living creature in the world. A red-fucking-letter day.
Chapter 31
The phone was ringing as I unlocked the apartment door. I shoved the door open with my shoulder and ran for the phone. I got it on the fifth ring and nearly yelled, "Hello."
"Anita?" Ronnie made it a question.
"Yeah, it's me."
"You sound out of breath."
"I had to run for the phone. What's up?"
"I remembered where I knew Cal Rupert from."
It took me a minute to remember who she was talking about. The first vampire victim. I'd forgotten, just for a moment, that there was a murder investigation going on. I was a little ashamed of that. "Talk to me, Ronnie."
"I was doing some work for a local law firm last year. One of the lawyers specialized in drawing up dying wills."
"I know that Rupert had a dying will. That's how I could stake him without waiting for an order of execution."
"But did you also know that Reba Baker had a dying will with the same lawyer?"
"Who's Reba Baker?"
"It may be the female victim."
My stomach tightened. A clue, a real live clue. "What makes you think so?"
"Reba Baker was young, blond, and missed an appointment. She doesn't answer her phone. They called her at work, and she hasn't been in for two days."
"The length of time she'd have been dead," I said.
"Exactly."