Page 65 of Throwing Shade
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Giving the blood a wide berth,I tiptoed through the hotel, hoping I’d find Laurent alive.
I checked on Rupert first. The elevator door was still locked, but the hole where something had bashed through the drywall rendered that kind of moot. I flicked on the light and stuck my head through.
He sat on the ground with his legs hugged up to his chest and his head resting on his knees.
“Rupert? Are you hurt?”
He raised his head, revealing the two puncture marks in his neck. His eyes were glazed and he wore a dopey smile.
The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I looked around but I was alone. However, my sense of dread grew stronger, so I checked the walls and floor for blood. There wasn’t any.
The problem was Rupert’s shadow, which was a sickly-gray and flecked with crimson. Exactly like Alex’s had been.
No, no, no. My hands balled into fists. I hadn’t known this guy, not at all, really, but he was supposed to have more time than this.
The dybbuk had fully possessed the host and Rupert as I’d known him was dead. I still didn’t understand how. Dybbuks inhabited a body during the Danger Zone between sunsets on Friday and Saturday night, and according to Laurent, remained in the enthrallment period until a week later.
It was only Monday. Could a vampire bite speed up the effects?
Rupert rattled his chains. “Where’d the other one go? I liked her.”
Another female vampire. Had there been more than one? “Did she have any friends? Did they take Laurent?”
“She and cauliflower boy grabbed him.” Rupert lunged at me, rattling his chains, his face a mottled red. “I hope the shifter’s dead.”
I flinched at his viciousness. That was the dybbuk talking, not Rupert… because Rupert was gone. I’d failed him. “I’m sorry.”
He tilted his head, considering me with narrowed eyes. “For what? That you didn’t save that poor miserable wretch?” He drew out his words mockingly. “Make it up to me and let me out.”
“I can’t.”
He rattled the handcuffs. “Let me out, you bitch!”
I fled, his curses ringing in my ears. Ignoring him as best I could, I searched the rest of the floor, since the top two stories were boarded up.
At the back of the main space was a hallway that ran the width of the building. To the right was a spacious, airy kitchen. A lovingly-crafted room, it boasted weathered gray cabinets, oil-rubbed bronze hardware, granite counters, and—I frowned—a cheap laminate table with one chair.
The dybbuk inside Rupert had run out of steam and fallen silent. The iron band around my ribcage fell away and I took a deep breath, heading into the narrow bathroom on the opposite side of the corridor.
It was completely utilitarian with a basic white toilet, nondescript shower stall, and box store cabinets, with the peculiar addition of a frosted sliding door at the back. I slid it open and stepped through, my eyes lighting up at the patio area, its high walls covered in greenery. Moss peeked through the crooked flagstones and smooth river rocks created a path between the sliding doors and the showpiece of the space: a massive copper soaking tub under a roof woven from thin strips of criss-crossed cedar.
The space was imbued with a reverence and I wondered if Laurent ever brought a lover or partner here, or if this was for him alone. I caught myself trailing my hand over the tub and hurried back inside, feeling like I’d transgressed.
There was one room left to check: the bedroom. I stepped through the door connecting it with the bathroom, expecting some ode to masculinity with a huge wood bed, though I wryly conceded that might be wishful thinking. Instead, the room was spartan with a basic queen-sized bed, a chest of drawers, and a lamp on a bedside table, the scent of cedar wafting out from the partially ajar closet door.
It was as if Laurent allowed himself to be surrounded by beauty, but only up to a certain point. He hadn’t simply lost interest, something else was at play—like penance, because there also wasn’t a single photo of any friends or family, whereas Sadie and I had them stuck to the fridge and lining shelves and windowsills.
My curiosity about the man deepened, but they paled next to my concern. The vamps had gotten him and it was my fault. I’d have to play spy in their territory and locate him. Besides, I was paying him to work and find Jude, and he’d probably demand hazard pay for being chained up, which was a big no-can-do.
I parked my car at the edge of Blood Alley and stood on the sidewalk, fists clenched, spiralling in frustration, because it remained the same two-block long stretch that it always was.
A couple strolled past me and turned into the closest restaurant.
I couldn’t continue standing here. For one thing, I was too exposed. Just because I couldn’t see into the vamp version of Blood Alley, didn’t mean they couldn’t see out here, or worse, didn’t have sentries posted to await my arrival. If there were, I refused to risk any innocents getting caught in the crossfire.
The pizza employee’s face flashed into my head. Any more innocents getting caught.
