Carte Blanche [Special Enforcers Series ] Read online

  "I can do it,” Grace cut in gently. “You're safe. Everything will be fine."

  The woman let go of Grace's arms and looked to the back of the house. “I'm not sure it will be,” she murmured. “What will I do without my Spencer?"

  If Grace had had any doubt left, she now was sure someone had died. Not just anyone, but the very same man she had been on her way to meet.

  "I know this has to be hard, ma'am, and the police probably asked you already. But could you tell me what happened?"

  The woman, shaking slightly, walked over to the sitting room next to the entryway and let herself fall onto an armchair. Grace followed her and sat on a nearby sofa.

  "My husband ... he was in his study when I went to bed last night, around eleven. He said he would join me soon. I heard a car pull up in the alley, and voices.” She looked up from the handkerchief in her hand and smiled through her tears. “Spencer was a member of the town council. He loved his job. He often worked late, but he rarely had meetings that late."

  She seemed to be waiting for Grace to say something.

  "I'm sure he was very dedicated to his work,” she said warily.

  The woman nodded. “Always. Even when our son—” She swallowed hard. “—even when he was taken from us, Spencer kept working so hard. He said he wanted to make Blackwood Falls so that other young men wouldn't die like our Tony."

  Grace suddenly had a pretty good idea as to what had cause Nihls to change his mind about vampires.

  "Mrs. Nihls, I can't say how sorry I am for your losses. Could you tell me what happened after you heard the voices?"

  She sniffed. “I don't know. I fell asleep, and only woke up this morning. Spencer never came to bed. I figured he had fallen asleep in his study again. I went down to the kitchen to warm some coffee and when I looked out ... I couldn't understand why he was in the backyard. He never went there. He just..."

  She started sobbing again. Feeling awkward, Grace reached over and patted her arm gently.

  "I'm sorry,” she said again. “I'll go talk to the police, if that's all right with you. Is there someone you could call to come and be with you?"

  "My sister ... she's ... she's on her way. I'll show you."

  She stood with some difficulty, nodding her thanks when Grace supported her elbow briefly, and led the way to the kitchen. She didn't enter it, and only motioned toward the French windows.

  "They're out there. You'll do the spell before you leave, right?"

  "I will, ma'am. I'll be back in a moment to do it."

  She had just stepped onto the back deck through the French windows when she noticed Hugo. He had walked around the house to get to the backyard, and looked at her with obvious surprise.

  "How did you know to come here?” he asked as they reached the body together. He looked at Lieutenant Howell, his frown almost accusing. “Did you call her too?"

  "I didn't know I had to,” Howell replied, his eyes going from Hugo to Grace and back.

  Grace shook her head, a little amused despite the situation at how Hugo was still so protective of his work, even days after he had promised to let her do more for the agency. “I was supposed to have a meeting with the victim this morning."

  At Hugo's questioning look, she explained. “He used to be a strong adversary of MacAlair's, but recently he turned around completely. I thought he might have information about who opposed her enough to want her dead."

  "And now he's dead,” Hugo mused, then grudgingly admitted, “Maybe you were onto something. We'll look at those lists of yours a bit more closely when we get back to the agency."

  After her struggles from the past couple of days, this felt as close to validation as Grace could have hoped. She had some trouble hiding her smile.

  Since the murder had taken place outdoors, magic was useless. Vampires only needed an invitation to enter a personal home; backyards, like public places, were freely accessible to them and did not bear traces of vampires passing through them. All Hugo and Grace could do was watch the body being removed. Mullen, the medical examiner, did point out that Nihls seemed to have received a blow to the head before his death, though she couldn't say yet if it had killed him, or if the bite on his neck had. She promised them an answer before the day was over.

  "His wife said she heard him talk to someone inside the house late last night,” she told Hugo when the police was done. “She wants a disinvite, and we probably should trace vampires who entered the house before that."

  Hugo nodded. “Of course. You want to do it?"

  She shrugged self-consciously and tried not to look at the leather bag Hugo held. “I only came here to talk to the guy. I don't have any supplies with me."

  He shook a finger at her. “You should always have basic spell supplies with you. You never know when you're going to need them."

  "You're right,” she conceded, contrite. “I'll remember that."

  He seemed satisfied by her admission and gestured for her to follow him. They walked inside the house through the window she had left open. Mrs. Nihls stood just inside the kitchen doorway again, although she was now dressed. She had also brushed her hair. While she wasn't crying anymore, her eyes remained as red.

  "My condolences,” Hugo said, more sympathetic than Grace was used to seeing him. “We're going to do a couple of spells and revoke any invitation to enter that may have been given to a vampire. We'll just need a moment."

  She nodded before stepping away. Hugo pulled out the ingredients they needed from his bag and set them out on the kitchen table. He didn't invite Grace to take over, but she didn't mind. Standing against the wall, she watched him as he mixed the ingredients and recited the spell. Nothing happened.

  Hugo grunted. “That's weird. I've done this spell hundreds of times. I can't believe I did it wrong."

  "You didn't,” Grace said, as taken aback as he was. “I was watching you. You did everything the way it's supposed to be."

  "But that can't be right. If no vampire was invited in this house, how could a vampire have killed..."

  His frown turned into raised eyebrows at the same time that Grace figured it out.

  "The vamp could have had an accomplice,” he said. “A human—"

  "A human who led Nihls out in the backyard and knocked him out with a blow to the head before letting the vampire kill him."

  Hugo nodded. “I don't see why else he'd have gone out in the middle of the night. Can you think of another explanation?"

  Grace thought about it for a moment. It was possible, she supposed, that the late night visitor might be unrelated to Nihls’ murder, but then what could have lured him outside? He had lost his son to vampires, he had been fighting for anti-vampire legislation ... Grace had met people like him before, and they rarely liked to be in open spaces at night.

  "Did ... did you do the spell?” Mrs. Nihls asked, reappearing by the doorway.

  Grace and Hugo exchanged a glance. A disinvite spell was useless if no vampire had been invited in.

  "We did,” Grace said, smiling reassuringly. “You're safe. And we'll do everything we can to find who is responsible for your husband's death."

  * * * *

  That promise stayed with Grace all day as she and Hugo reviewed everything they knew and every hypothesis they could come up with. By the end of the day, when the medical examiner called to say it was the bite that had killed Nihls and that it was identical to the bite they had found on MacAlair, both Special Enforcers were convinced that the two killings weren't separate incidents.

  "This has never happened before,” Hugo exclaimed, not for the first time, just as they were closing the agency. “In this town, deaths by vampires are accidents. One or two a year, never more. And now we've got two intentional killings of anti-vamp politicians...” He shook his head in disbelief. “It's just weird."

  Grace didn't answer. As far as she was concerned, what was weird was that such a thing hadn't happened before, given that the charter of Blackwood Falls was so strict where va
mpires were concerned.

  "You're sure you want to come?” he asked, also not for the first time. “Your kid—"

  "Is home with my mother,” she cut in, smiling but unyielding. “She'll be just fine. And, yes, I am sure I want to come and investigate L.E.V. As I recall, I'm the one who found out about it in the first place."

  Hugo stopped complaining after that, and they left together in his car to visit one after another two vampires and a human, all of them part of the L.E.V. group. All three were adamant as to the complete legality of their actions and pointed out that the murders hurt their cause rather than helped it in words so similar it had to be a planned response. One of the vampires and the human had alibis for both murders. The other vampire, as a licensed attorney, had a magical trace on him that eliminated him as a suspect, since no registered vampire had entered MacAlair's home.

  "Well, that was a waste of time,” Hugo complained, driving Grace back to the agency so she could pick up her car. Night had fallen, and with vampires free to roam, they had decided to stop their visits until the next day.

  "Not completely. You heard them; they were strictly reciting their group's opinion on the murders. There's got to be someone in L.E.V. who thinks legal action takes too long. We need to find out who."

  "But if they're all guarding each other's backs, we'll never get through."

  They arrived, and he parked the car next to Grace's. She opened the door but didn't get out immediately. “I don't know,” she said, thinking aloud. “Some of them pay lip service to the group's official word on the murders, but others might believe it more strongly. That last vamp—"

  "Fontes? The attorney?"

  "Yeah. No offense, but I don't think he liked you much."

  Hugo chuckled. “No, dear old Nathan never did. We've known each other quite a while now, although you wouldn't know it to look at him."

  A half smile tugged at Grace's lips. “I think he might be more open to talking to me alone. I'll try him again tomorrow, and ask if anyone has been advocating more direct action."

  "Let me know how it goes."

  "I will. Good night."

  Since stumbling onto her second murder scene that morning, Grace had been entirely focused on her work, and had not thought of Ray more than a couple of times. The instant she closed her car door and turned the key in the ignition, the bitterness and betrayal she had felt that morning returned fully, augmented by the half-formed thought at the back of her mind that she could ask him if he knew about the L.E.V. group or even had ever been a part of it. She stomped on that idea before it could become too nagging. Her subconscious wasn't fooling her in the slightest, offering her an excuse to go see Ray, and as much as I wished she could have, she refused to take the bait.

  As it turned out, she didn't have to go see him. When she reached her floor, the first thing she heard, before she could even see him, was his voice, confused and hesitant.

  "Your mom's ... I ... not exactly..."

  Her heart suddenly trying to break free from her chest, Grace hurried past the corner of the hallway. Questions thundered through her mind—why was he here? How had he known where to find her?—but the fear was louder than them. Laura should know better than to invite anyone inside their home, but if she did so anyway by accident...

  "Flowers, huh? You're the one who hurt my daughter, then."

  Grace reached the door just as Caroline finished uttering her pronouncement—just in time to see the effect it had on Ray. He looked both crestfallen and hopeful when he heard Grace approach and turned his face to her. The combination was odd, just as odd as the sight of him wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, and a navy blue jacket. Black suited him much better, she decided before dismissing the stray thought.

  "What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice as harsh as Mistress Red's had ever been.

  He glanced at Caroline, as though unwilling to speak in front of her. She seemed to interpret his look as a plea for help.

  "He came to apologize, of course,” she said, crossing her arms, and raised an eyebrow toward Grace. “Or did he mess up too much to even get the right to apologize?"

  Grace repressed the urge to groan aloud. She'd wanted to see Ray, she had even held the barely conscious hope he could find a way to explain his behavior, but not like this, not in front of Caroline and with Laura looking out curiously only a few feet away.

  "Mom, please, give me a minute, would you?"

  Caroline seemed almost disappointed, although Grace couldn't have said if it was because she was being asked to step back or because she didn't want Ray to have the chance to apologize. She closed the door after another look at Ray. Grace was sure she would eavesdrop if given a chance, just like she was sure the nosy neighbor across the hall would listen in as well.

  "Come with me,” she said, gritting her teeth, and led the way down the staircase and to the parking lot. She got into her car and unlocked the passenger side, her need for privacy prevailing over the little voice in her mind that claimed being so close to him was not a good idea at all. After a moment of hesitation, Ray climbed in.

  "Give me one reason why I shouldn't stake you right here and now,” she snapped at him, her anger from the previous night compounded by her instinctive fear at a vampire having been so close from her daughter. Without thinking, she closed her hands on the wheel and tightened them until they hurt.

  From the corner of her eyes, she could see him turn his upper body toward her and lean back against the door. He didn't say anything until she looked at him fully.

  "One reason,” he said, much too calm to her liking. “OK. You're not the kind of Special Enforcer who just kills a vamp because he looked at you the wrong way."

  "You did more than look at me the wrong way.” The last time her voice had been so cold, she had been telling her soon-to-be ex-husband she wanted a divorce.

  "Do you want me to make a list of what I did wrong?"

  There was just the trace of a smile pulling at his lips. Grace had to struggle not to slap him.

  "No, I don't. We're not playing anymore. You lost the right to play when you lied to me."

  He nodded, yet the words that passed his lips were anything but an agreement. “I thought you'd see things that way. But I didn't lie. Not to you, at least."

  She stared at him incredulously. “And you didn't tell me the portrait was of your Sire?"

  "No, I told your partner it was of Keller. He's the one who asked for a picture. He's the one I gave the drawing to. I never told you—"

  Grace couldn't help it. She laughed. It was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, and yet at the same time she could see why he had thought she might accept this excuse.

  "Let me make a guess here,” she said bitterly when she had calmed down. “If you gave such a crappy excuse to your Sire, he'd call you clever and let you get away with it."

  Ray blinked very slowly. He looked a little taken aback. “He would, yes. But you won't, will you?"

  "No. Want to know why?"

  He nodded.

  "Because I give—gave a damn about you. And from what I know of him, he doesn't. He'd let you get away with it because, for him, it was nothing more than a game."

  She managed to stop herself before voicing the obvious corollary. She had made enough of a fool of herself already. She expected him to try pushing at her with more apologies after that, but he only gave her a miserable smile.

  "I see that now,” he said. “I just wish I had realized it sooner. I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but I'm sorry."

  Straightening his body, he pulled at the door handle. The ceiling light turned on. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand was closing on his arm.

  "Wait."

  He looked back at her, not disguising his hope well enough to fool her.

  She wanted to answer that hope. She wanted to accept that they hadn't been involved on the same level, and she shouldn't have expected so much from him after only playing with him a handful of times
. She wanted to give him a second chance—and yet, she had promised herself, a few months earlier, that she'd never again offer a man a second chance to hurt her. What she wanted to say became something completely different.

  "Do you know someone called Spencer Nihls?"

  He blinked, then frowned. The hope was gone. “The name sounds vaguely familiar.” At her insistent look, he gave a small shrug. “You're asking me to guess? Is he a TV person of some sort?"

  Somehow, she was ready to believe he truly had no idea who Nihls had been and that he had been killed. It would have been too much of a coincidence if the two murders hadn't been linked, and she trusted that neither him nor his Sire had been involved in MacAlair's death.

  "What about the L.E.V. group?"

  That brought a furtive gleam of recognition to his eyes. “I've heard of them. Some kind of vampire defense association or something along those lines, isn't it?"

  "Do you know anyone who belongs—"

  He shook his head. “We're done playing, Grace, you said so yourself."

  She wanted to reproach him the use of her name, but she realized just before she did that she had given up that right. All she could do was watch the fire slowly rising in his eyes and voice as he continued his tirade.

  "And I'm done answering any question you can throw my way. I don't know who killed MacAlair, and honestly I don't care all that much. The only good thing she ever did as far as I'm concerned was allow me to meet you."

  His face softened a little then, and his voice dropped to a murmur. “I'll miss you. Grace as much as Mistress Red. Goodbye."

  He leaned in to press his lips to hers, slowly enough that she could have stopped him. She couldn't have explained why, but she didn't. She knew she should stop that chaste kiss and pull away, and yet she remained still and allowed him to end it. Turning away, he pushed the door open and stepped out of the car. Grace watched him leave with his hands deep in his jacket pockets and his head held high so stiffly she knew it had to be a façade. Only when he had disappeared did she notice the bouquet of flowers he had left on the passenger seat.