Anemone suggested a high-end steakhouse. “I like my meat rare,” she said. “With blood dripping out.”
Rachel’s a vegetarian, so I sort of liked the thought of getting some meat for the first time in weeks. “Works for me.”
We met at 11:30 the next night. Anemone was waiting at the bar, in high heels and a sleek black dress with a slit up to her thigh. A tall, handsome guy in a turtleneck and a leather vest on the next stool was apparently trying to hit on her, leaning over and stroking her arm. I almost hung back, waiting to see how she’d deal with it, but then she spotted me in the mirror behind the bar—even though her own face didn’t leave any reflection in the glass—and sprung out of her stool. “Tom! Honey! Here you are!”
She kissed me. Hard.
Okay. One promise broken.
The guy stared at me, puzzled, then swung around in his stool. Anemone waved at the bartender. “We’ll take care of my bill at the table.” She took my hand.
I had to admit she looked sexy—for a vampire. For anyone, really. I tried to remember that this was strictly business. Despite the kiss.
At the table she scanned the wine list and ordered a bottle of expensive cabernet. The tall waiter nodded and took the rest of our orders.
Anemone ordered a T-bone steak. Rare. I ordered a filet mignon. Medium. I just hoped the CPD would pay my expenses for this, but I didn’t look forward to the argument with Sharpe.
Anemone lifted her glass. “Here’s to our first date.”
First? Another promise on the rocks. I choked down a swallow. “I guess you don’t date very much?”
“Oh, you know, there’s so much work being vampire queen of half of Chicago.” She smirked. “But sometimes there’s a nice-looking man—” She winked. “Or a woman—and it’s just more interesting to seduce instead of just attack.” She sipped her wine. “What about you?”
“Well, I don’t date at all anymore. I mean . . .” I gulped some water. “Rachel and I go out on date nights. Sometimes I even get lucky.”
“You might get lucky tonight.” She licked her lips.
Lucky to get home alive. I rubbed my neck. I hoped she wasn’t checking out the late-night diners around us. Two women, sharing tiramisu, smiled at a corner table. An elderly couple sipped their coffee, holding hands.
“So . . .” Anemone picked up a breadstick and snapped it in her hands. “Tell me all about yourself.”
I felt like I was in college again. Nervous and jumpy, trying to make intelligent conversation. I tried to think of dates in college. What’s your major? What dorm do you live in? Do you want another beer? “Okay, you tell me a secret, and I’ll tell you one.”
She smiled. “Did this work with Rachel?”
I leaned back. “Maybe.”
The waiter came with salads. Anemone shoved hers away. “All right. When I was human—when I was 17—I did it with my brother.”
My appetite vanished. “Did he . . . force you?”
“Oh, hell no.” She laughed. “I seduced him. I was evil even when I was human. But so was he. We had a crazy family. But that’s a story for our second date.” She looked around. “Where’s our food? I’m starving.”
Me too. I looked down at my salad. “Uhh . . . didn’t you hunt tonight?”
“A little.” She grinned. “Just one old man. I didn’t drink him dry. I wanted to be hungry for our date.” She licked her lips. “Come on, Tom. Tell me a secret. Isn’t that what you said?”
“Yeah.” Maybe that hadn’t been a good idea. “Okay. So when I was 17 too, I noticed that the daughter in the house next door didn’t close her blinds. She was 19 or something. So I spent all one summer with binoculars glued to my face. She’d get undressed, have boys over—best summer of my life.”
“Mmm.” She smiled. “Did you ever do it with her?”
I shook my head. “I was a nerdy teenager. She never spoke to me.”
“That’s not much of a story.” She frowned.
“Okay, I did it with her sister.” I was making this up. “She was 23. I went over to her house one day to ask her on a date, but she wasn’t home, and her sister answered the door. And, uh . . .”
“Liar.” She grinned. I could see her fangs.
I shrugged. “You wanted a story.”
Fortunately our dinner came. I sliced my filet with a steak knife. Anemone leaned down to lick the blood off her T-bone. Then she started chopping it into small pieces so she could suck all the inside blood she could. I was hungry enough that this didn’t kill my appetite. Mostly.
After a few bites she put down her fork. “All right, I have to confess—I lured you here under false pretenses.”
False? I stiffened.
She sipped her wine, then licked her lips with a long tongue. “Well, I did want a date. But I brought you here to meet the vamp you’re looking for.”
I took a breath. “You knew?”
She shrugged. “I had a guess. It turned out right. Ricardo?”
I turned in my chair. Behind me, a tall man in gray pinstriped suit stood up from a table.
It was the vamp from the bar. I edged my chair back in case I had to run.
He carried his own glass of red wine over. “Hello, Anemone. Nice to see you again.”
“Same.” She stood up and gave him a kiss. I almost felt jealous. This was supposed to be our date, after all.
Ricardo pulled his chair over, and they sat down again. “This is Tom Jurgen. My date.” Anemone winked at me. “He was asking about you.”
“I’ve heard your name.” Ricardo extended a hand.
I’m apparently famous in the supernatural community around Chicago. We shook. “I saw you the other night. At that bar.”
“I didn’t get much to drink there.” He crossed his arms. “Why is this a thing for you?”
I chose my words carefully. “We’re not sure this is in keeping with the truce. Too many vampire killings tend to get the cops upset.”
He tapped his fingertips on the tablecloth. “I’m helping the police. Getting rid of criminals.”
“So you’re a—a vampire vigilante?” I liked the alliteration.
Ricardo crossed his arms. “I’ve been undead for 30 years.” He looked in his 50s, in human terms. “Most of that time I was—an ordinary bloodsucker.” He grinned. “Then a few years ago, in San Francisco—I was out one night, hunting, and there was a mugging. Two men attacking a woman, grabbing at her backpack, ripping at her clothes. She was too terrified to scream. So I—intervened.” Another grin.
Anemone chewed on a piece of steak. “Then what?”
“What do you think?” He laughed, then lowered his voice. “I killed them. I was going to kill the woman too, but she just stared at me. Then she whispered, ‘Thank you.’”
He tilted his head. “It was the first time anyone had ever thanked me for anything. In this life or my human life. I told her to run, and then I drained their blood while it was still warm.” He smiled at the memory. “And then I decided to target—human crime.”
Okay. “How? Police scanner?”
Anemone laughed.
Ricardo frowned. “I learned a—a sort of charm that would take me where I wanted to go.”
“Learned or stole?” I’d run across a teleportation charm before.
He frowned. “Bought. From a wizard. As simple as a touch.” He snapped his fingers. “After years of killing humans just for their blood, I decided I’d like killing humans who deserve it. What’s so wrong with that?”
Aside from the killing part? I wasn’t sure what to say. I could hardly stake him here in the restaurant—and besides, the truce prohibited cops from killing vamps unless they were actively attacking a human citizen. “You’ve killed at least three crooks here in Chicago that we know of. How many more?”
“Here?” He looked around the room, as if counting in his head. “A dozen or so. I only got here six months ago. I did San Francisco, LA—there was a lot of action there—Vegas, St. Louis . . . But this place is the best. You’ve got gangs, drive-bys, and that means . . .” He grinned. I could see his fangs. “Good hunting for vamps like me.”
“Well, you’ve got attention now.” I gulped some water. “Maybe more than you want.”
Anemone leaned toward me. “What are you going to do?” She might have been flirting earlier, but she was still the vampire queen. Ricardo and the others were her responsibility—to deal with, or protect.
“I’ll have to report it.” I looked at Ricardo nervously. “But unless they catch you in the middle of an attack, you’re probably safe. Just—be careful.”
He smiled. “You don’t last long as a bloodsucking fiend without being careful.”
“I suppose not.” I picked up my fork. Still hungry. “Well, thanks.”
Ricardo stood up. “I’ll tell you what. You two lovebirds finish your meal, and I’ll meet you outside.”
Anemone kissed his cheek. “Nice seeing you, Ricardo. Thanks.”
“So why aren’t you dating him?” I sat down. “He’s more your type.”
She grinned. “A little too—ordinary.”
Ricardo was waiting outside on the street, wearing the same long black coat from yesterday. Anemone kissed me again. “I had a good time, Tom. Maybe again sometime?”
“S-sure.” Forget Sharpe—I didn’t know what the hell I was going to tell Rachel.
Ricardo led me down the sidewalk. It was close to 1 a.m. “I’m going to show you what I do. You can tell your cop friends whatever you want.”
“Oh-kay.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch a killing. Although it wouldn’t be the first one I’d ever seen. I used to take anti-anxiety meds for that.
Plus, he was right—I’d have more to tell Sharpe.
And, okay, I was curious. It’s what made me a decent reporter in my past life, and it definitely helps me as a private detective.
He stopped in front of an alley and held out a hand. He squeezed. My hand tingled. “Brace yourself.”
I nodded. “All—”
Then everything was cold. My body shook. I tried to shout, but my throat was paralyzed. It was like traveling between dimensions—which I’ve done more than once, and never liked it.
“—right.” I gasped. Ricardo grabbed my shoulder. ”Quiet.”
I was on my knees on a concrete floor between two cars. A parking garage.
“Stay down,” Ricardo whispered. “They can’t see me. Yet.”
Who? I heard voices arguing. I couldn’t make out the words. I kept my head down.
Then—gunshots. They echoed across all the concrete. I flattened myself on a yellow line and pushed myself under a car. Ricardo was gone.
Another gunshot. Then something that sounded like a curse.
Then silence.
“You can come out now.” Ricardo laughed, a little bit like The Shadow in the old radio plays.
I rolled over and stood up.
Three dead bodies lay in front of an SUV. One was bleeding out, a wound in his stomach. Probably the gunshots.
The other two were just . . . dead. Their necks twisted to unnatural angles. Just like the robber the other night. A small plastic bag lay between their bodies.
Ricardo bent down. His fangs gleamed in the halogen lights overhead. I turned away. I didn’t need—or want—to see him draining the blood from his victims. Even if they’d been criminals.
After a few minutes he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Drug dealers. I left their stuff all around them, so your cop friends will know what happened.”
I nodded, not looking back. “Did you get a full drink?”
“Good enough for a couple of nights. Let’s go.” He gripped my hand again. Again my palm tingled.
And then another shuddering trip through the cold. Back in the alley, Ricardo caught me again before I fell. “Tell them whatever you want. But this has got to be better than sucking on ordinary humans.”
I wanted to point out that drug dealers and robbers are humans too. But arguing with a vampire who’d just killed and drained two people while leaving another one to die in a parking garage? Probably not a smart idea. “Okay,” I gasped. “I’ll . . . tell them what you said.”
Ricardo didn’t answer. When I turned around, he was gone.
Rachel was awake. After 2 a.m. She sat up in bed in a pink T-shirt. “How was your date?”
“She kissed me.” I wanted to get that out of the way first. “Then the vigilante vamp—his name’s Ricardo, by the way—took me to watch one of his kills.”
“Ricardo, huh?” She punched her pillows back. “Like Montalban?”
That wasn’t the detail I expected her to pick up on first. “Good-looking, in a tall, dark and scary kind of way.”
I perched on the edge of the bed and started pulling off my shoes and socks. I told Rachel everything: the kiss, the dinner, the drug dealers . . . by the time I was finished I just wanted to lay down and go to sleep.
“So . . .” She stroked my arm. “Did you kiss her back?”
Uh-oh. “Well, I didn’t want to be rude.”
Rachel punched me. “Jerk.” Then she kissed me. I kissed her back.
It was almost 2:30. We both had to get up in the morning. But again, I didn’t want to be rude . . .
“Yeah, we have a report on a couple of drug dealers dead in a parking structure on the south side.” Sharpe yawned. “One gunshot wound, two broken necks, and a couple of bite marks, and a lot of blood on the floor. You were there?”
“I couldn’t stop it.” I gulped my coffee at the kitchen table. “His name’s Ricardo.”
“Okay, okay.” I heard her fingers punching keys. “What else have you got?”
“His name’s Ricardo. Wait, I already said that.” I hadn’t slept much. “He started in San Francisco a few years ago. He’s been moving around. He thinks he’s doing you a favor.”
“Well, that big bag of fentanyl we found won’t reach anyone else. So that’s a plus.” But she groaned. “Is he likely to move to someone else’s city soon?”
“This seems like a pretty big playground for him. Drug dealers, gangbangers—when’s Donald Trump going to solve all the crime in Chicago like he promised?”
“That asshole.” Sharpe snorted. “Look, just keep in touch with this Ricardo guy. Let me know what he’s up to.”
I didn’t have his number. “Are you going to stake him?”
“Only if we have to. Tell him to stay low. And get out of town.”
We hung up. I headed to the kitchen for more coffee.
Rachel was already there, in a T-shirt and shorts. “Hello, lover. Sleep well?” She held the coffeepot out. “Fill you up?”
“Sure.” I held out my mug. “So, uh, am I forgiven?”
“For what? Kissing that vamp whore?” She laughed. “Never. Now make me breakfast. Bagels. Don’t burn them in the toaster.” She punched my arm. “I’m going to take a shower.”
I watched the toaster as if my life depended on it. Or at least my arm.
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