Page 29 of Whispers at Dusk
“That’s not enough. I’m afraid we’ll have to arrest you,” Mason said regretfully.
“No, no, you can’t! I’ll lose my job. My father will kill me.”
Della leaned closer to him across the table. “Beautiful young people have lost their lives. I’m afraid there’s no coming back from that.”
He was silent for a minute.
“You really don’t understand,” he said.
“What don’t we understand?” Della asked.
“I could lose my life, too,” he whispered.
She and Mason glanced at each other once again, then both sat back and watched Scott Harrington.
“So, you drank blood here. You didn’t kill anyone. We believe you,” Della said.
“But someone gave you human blood to drink,” Mason said. “And you thought it might be like one of those groups you came across in New Orleans. And you probably had a few drinks—maybe not Bloody Marys—before that.”
“So,” Della continued, “you met this person who gave you human blood to drink. You weren’t even sure it was the real thing, but it sounded cool—so you talked about it when you ordered Bloody Marys at the bar.”
Harrington remained silent for a minute, looking downward.
Then he nodded slowly.
“Who?” Mason asked.
Harrington shook his head.
“We need a name.”
“I don’t have a name!” Harrington said, looking at them at last. He winced. “Okay, I met this man just outside Bruger’s. He was with a really pretty girl and he said, hey, and then asked me if I was with the dig. I told him yes. Then he said it was really cool to meet me and they were local and knew where to have a real party. I asked him where and he said in the woods. So, we went to the woods, and when we were there, I realized we were the party. The guy told me it was a special party, and he had learned how to receive the power and the strength of the Vikings. He said we were drinking blood—real blood. And I guess I looked surprised and maybe worried because the girl said I shouldn’t worry, the blood was hers. They came and did this thing once a month, drinking a bit of each other’s blood. He had it in some kind of a vial. I said the next time we could drink my blood, and they were both really friendly and I thought they were...well, the really cool locals.”
“For drinking blood,” Mason murmured.
Della looked at him. “When you left, this girl was alive and well?”
“Yes! And we came back into town together. She was a pretty blonde.”
“Have you seen either of them since?” Mason asked.
“No, but that was just about a week ago. They wouldn’t be looking for me yet.”
“Did they give you names?”
Harrington shook his head. “Well, they called one anotherhoneyanddarling. Anddarlinglaughed and said he was Vlad Dracul and we all laughed at that.”
“So, did this man work at the dig?” Mason asked.
Harrington looked away.
“Well?” Della prodded.
“I... I don’t know.”
“But he and the woman spoke Norwegian?” Mason asked.
“I think.” He shrugged. “I, uh, don’t speak any myself, but I would have recognized one of the romance languages.”
