“Prick,” Betsy commented, and this time, everyone nodded.
12
THE villain met them on the front steps.
This was startling, to say the least.
“Hello,” he said cheerfully. “I was just leaving to go break another girl’s heart, so I only have a minute.”
Sophie felt like hitting him. With luck, she would soon be doing exactly that. “You what?”
“Dude, you are so busted,” Betsy told him. Then, to Sinclair, “This kind of takes of fun out of it. No big showdown scene. Unless this is it.”
“You killed all those girls,” Sophie said, beginning to recover. She had a horrible feeling she knew why the youngish-looking man seemed so unconcerned. “It’s the same as if you had…” She groped for the words. “Shot them or used a knife on them.”
“Yes, I know.” She could see why he passed for a premed student; he didn’t look a day over twenty-five. He was short, only a few inches taller than she was, with hair that was exactly between blond and brown. He had pleasant features and looked rather like anyone else on the street, in his denim jacket and khaki slacks. His eyes were wide-set and brown. They were the only feature that gave him away. They glittered like a snake’s. “I’ve been meaning to get down to Minneapolis and…” He cut himself off and laughed. “Okay, that’s a lie. I’ve been up here having some fun, for a change.”
Sophie was staring at him. They were all, she realized, staring at him. Betsy was right. This was a very odd way to go about catching a killer. “For a change?” she finally asked, when no one else said anything.
“Sure. I mean, working for Nostro, talk about all work and no play making me a dull boy. I actually missed the big fight, when this guy here”—he nodded at Sinclair—“took control of the whole shebang. I was out getting Nostro some more girls.”
“You brought him victims.”
“Sure.”
“And when he wasn’t holding your leash any longer,” Sinclair went on with terrifying pleasantness, “you decided to come and…how did you put it? Have some fun?”
“Sure.” The killer looked puzzled. “Look, I know I should have come down and paid my respects, but you haven’t been in power that long, and I figured I had time—”
“We’re not here about that,” Betsy said, exasperated. “Jeez. Like we care if you come down to the cities and kiss our asses, or pretend to kiss our asses, which is way worse. We’re here to stop you from killing anybody else.”
The killer’s brow wrinkled as he struggled with the alien concept. “But…why? Do you need my help with something? I’ll be glad to go back to Minneapolis—”
“Dude…We. Don’t. Want. You. To. Kill. Anybody. Else.”
“Because. It’s. Wrong,” Sophie added.
“Do you mean, it’s wrong because I’m not letting you have a crack at the girls? I could—”
“Stop talking now,” Sinclair said.
“Do you believe this guy?” Betsy cried, turning to the group. “He’s not getting this at all. He—” Her eyes narrowed as she took in the expression on Sophie’s face, and the identical one on Sinclair’s. “You guys totally expected this!”
“Well…” Sophie began, but had no idea where to go from there.
“This is a regular thing for vampires?” Liam asked, his displeasure evident.
“No,” Sophie said. “Er…all right, sometimes. Not the making the girls fall in love with him part. But the, ah, other part.”
“See? See? This is why I’m not getting on board with the whole consort thing,” Betsy told him triumphantly. “And why being a vampire makes my skin crawl. Just when I think it might not be a totally insane idea, something like this happens. And you’re all, ‘Ho hum, another vampire who’s a total psycho killer, oh well.’”
“You guys have lost me,” the killer interrupted. “You’re mad because of the girls? What, you had your eye on one of them? Because if I crossed territory, I really apologize.”
“I guess they aren’t people to you,” Liam said. “They’re…what? Sheep?”
The killer laughed. “Not hardly! You’re supposed to cherish and protect your sheep. The girls are more like…hors d’oeuvres.”
Betsy carefully pushed the sleeve of her sweater up, almost to her elbow, then socked the killer in the face.