Night Games

11

Jack and Selina stepped into the interrogation room. She held a three-inch-thick folder in her hands and let it thunk to the table. Jack had had some quality time with the healer Cavalli kept on hand, so he was fine, thank gods. Selina had healed her own split lip and cleaned up while she let their vampire stew in here for a while. “So. Gregor. Interesting to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Detective Grayson. How’ve you been?” He flashed a cheerful smile, despite the blood crusting on his nose and lip. His body had healed itself with the swiftness of his kind, but the evidence of damage would still be there until he washed it away. Bringing him in had been as messy as she’d thought it would be. His clothes were torn and sported claw-sized rips in several places.

Jack settled into a chair silently, letting her run the show. For the moment. She arched an eyebrow, not returning Gregor’s smile. “It’s never a good day when I have to deal with you.”

“Ouch.” He gave an exaggerated wince, as though her words had deeply wounded him.

Yeah, right. If anything fazed Gregor, she had yet to run across it. She tapped her pen against the table, running her gaze over the thick file they had on the man. “You began working for the New Orleans Conclave in 1976, is that correct?”

Forming his mouth into a thoughtful moue, he tilted his head. “I’ve worked for a lot of people over the years. I’m sure they were one of the groups.”

She spun around his vampire registration paper from the All-Magickal Council. “This is your signature, isn’t it? It states that you were turned in 1978 by the leader of the Conclave.”

He shrugged. “It looks like my signature, but these things can be faked. I don’t remember this document offhand, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t sign it. That was decades ago.”

“So you worked for them as a human and they turned you. When did you leave their employ?” And was it before or after the dates of the first murders?

His expression remained bland and pleasant, but his tongue flicked out to lick some of his own blood off his lip. “I worked for them exclusively for ten years before I began to take contracts with other clients.”

Meaning he was there long after the murders, but left before the killings in the second city had occurred. She drew in a deep breath and folded her hands tight to keep them from shaking. She kept her face smooth when she looked at him. “You like to kill people, don’t you, Gregor?”

“I don’t like it.” His eyebrows rose, and he shook his head. “It’s just my job to clean up other people’s messes. Sometimes people get hurt in the process.”

She pinned him with a stare. “Some people might find that immoral.”

“Do you?” His teeth flashed in a white smile.

Shaking her head, she tapped her finger against the file in front of her. “We’re not here to talk about what I think.”

“So? I’m asking anyway.”

“I think murder is illegal. That’s what I think.” Her voice was cold enough to freeze a half-shifted werewolf in his tracks.

The chuckle he gave sounded far too charming. “The difference between murder and justifiable killing can often be as simple as who carries a badge and who doesn’t.”

Ouch, there was a direct hit.

“How did you know Jason Mathison?” Jack spoke for the first time, his blue eyes intent on Gregor.

The vampire shook his head, innocent confusion on his face. “I’ve never even heard that name.”

Innocent, ha. She was surprised he didn’t burst into flames for even attempting the lie. She sat in the chair beside Jack. “We have a witness who saw you standing over his dead body. His drained dead body.”

“I haven’t drained anybody in years.” He smiled like a good little Boy Scout.

Jack ignored that and sat forward. “You returned to Seattle a few weeks ago, didn’t you?”

“I come and go.” Gregor flapped a negligent hand.

“We have a string of murders in Seattle that started two days after you came to town. All of them drained, just like Jason Mathison.” Jack rested one hand on the table. “Why don’t you tell us why you came back to this city?”

The redhead snorted. “It wasn’t to murder anyone.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem killing people, Mr. Night. You said so yourself.” Selina pursed her lips. “Why should we believe you had nothing to do with these?”

His genial smile returned. “Believe what you want, but I didn’t kill your Jason Mathison, or anyone else since I came back to Seattle.”

“In fact”—Jack took up the questioning—“we have a similar string of murders that took place during the time you were in New Orleans. And others in about half a dozen other cities in the last thirty years. We’ve got a lot of bodies just looking for a home, and you seem like a good fit to me, Mr. Night. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t think so.”

“If you had any real evidence that linked me to the crimes, you’d have arrested me already.” Gregor spread his hands. “Are you going to be reasonable and let me go, or do I need to call my lawyer? I’m not answering any more questions for you, and you can’t make me.”

They weren’t going to get anywhere with him. If he lawyered up, they’d get even less. Frustration crawled through her, but she knew better than to push her hand during an interrogation. She could still keep him until the lawyer arrived, keep asking questions, but she knew it would be pointless. He knew this drill far too well.

The door swung open and Delta sauntered in. “Gregor. Long time, no see, sugar.”

Every inch of color drained out of the vampire’s face, his pale skin standing out in even starker contrast to his copper hair. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

The tiniest edge of panic filled his voice. Now wasn’t that interesting? Selina arched her eyebrows, glancing back and forth between the two bloodsuckers.

“Well, you seem to be handling the elf and the Normal, so I thought you’d like to see how you measure up against a vampire.”

“N-Normal?” He flinched and grew even paler, drawing back when she stepped forward, planted her hand on the table, and got into his space.

“I’m a Normal.” Jack raised his hand. “Do you have a problem with Normals knowing about magic, Mr. Night?”

“I—”

“Think carefully how you answer that one, Gregor, since we both know you’ve let people in on magic in not quite legal ways before.” Delta’s violet gaze never wavered from his face. “Haven’t you?”

Gregor’s hands clenched on the tabletop, his eyes going wide. “I—I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, you only hurt people for money.” Her words dripped with disgust, disdain.

He flinched, his jaw working. “You have every right to hate me.”

“Fuck me, fuck me over, take my life, and drop me like I’m a worthless piece of trash.” She snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do hate your bloodsucking ass.”

“I understand.”

“No, you really don’t.” Her fangs extended to their full, deadly length, a hiss rattling out of her throat. The woman looked far more vicious than Selina would have imagined she was capable of. Gregor really knew how to make friends and influence people. Delta’s accent grew thicker when she spoke again. “You’re lucky I have a badge and oaths I swore to uphold, or you’d be a dead man right now.”

He swallowed hard, nodded, but held her gaze steadily. “I’m sorry for what I did to you.”

She slapped her hand against the table. “You don’t get to be sorry, pal. I want you to suffer the way you’ve made other people suffer.”

“I have.” The words were quiet, simple.

“Not enough. Not nearly enough.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smile. “You’re beautiful when you’re angry. Almost as beautiful as you are when you’re turned on.”

All the blood whooshed out of her face, then burned in bright red spots on her cheeks. She hissed at him again, fangs bared. “I hope you rot behind bars for the rest of your long, long life.”

His eyebrow arched. “You’ll forgive me if my hopes are a bit different from yours.”

“I don’t forgive you for anything, and I doubt any of your other victims do either.” A smile slashed across her face. “You know, there’s no statute of limitations on turning someone against their will. And I’d make a real good witness in that trial.”

He swallowed and said nothing. No glib remarks, no guileless grins. He looked at Selina. “I’m in Seattle working for Mildred Standish. You can verify that with her, though I doubt she’ll give you any details about what she has me doing. I can assure you it doesn’t call for any wet work. I have correspondence that can corroborate when the job was offered and when I was required to be in Seattle, which is now. That’s why I’m in town. Not to kill anyone.”

“Do you have similar correspondence that will clear you of any involvement in the other murders?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. “I don’t go anywhere that doesn’t include a job, so ... yes. My contracts don’t tend to be the kind that leave extra time for side jobs, trust me.” His gaze flickered to Delta when she gave a derisive snort. “I won’t give you the details of those assignments, either, but every one of my employers will vouch for having hired me and when. Give me the dates and the cities you’re talking about, and I’ll have myself cleared within the hour.”

Selina shook her head, unsatisfied with that. “What were you doing at Jason Mathison’s house?”

“I was in the neighborhood and smelled death. I went to check it out. I touched nothing at the crime scene.”

“You also didn’t report it,” Jack pointed out, stony faced.

“I assumed his people would be along soon to do so. There was no need to involve myself.” His shrug was expressive. “His body was relatively fresh when I got there, so I assure you I have an alibi for the time of his death.”

Delta made a noise that was pure, frustrated rage. She spun on her heel and stomped out of the room. Selina followed and found her bent over with her hands braced on her knees and her butt leaning against the wall, sucking in deep breaths.

“You did good, Dubois.” She squatted down so she was eye level with the other woman. “I wasn’t getting anything out of him. Thank you.”

Delta glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. “He may not have done these ones, but it makes me nauseous how often he wiggles out of any responsibility for the things he has done.”

“I know.”

“Jesus. I never thought I’d see him again.” A shudder ran through her. “It was worse than I ever imagined.”

Selina sighed, sympathy winding through her. Yeah, she knew what it was like to be confronted with her worst nightmare. She was there now. “I’m sorry.”

The vampire just shook her head, pulled herself upright, and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll be okay. I need to get back to work. I owe y’all the rundown on your profile. Which Gregor doesn’t fit.”

“We can’t keep Gregor much longer—since we have no hard evidence and I’m guessing he really will alibi out—but Jack and I will want to lean on him a little longer.” Selina rose to her feet. “Take an hour and we’ll meet you in Jack’s office.”

“I’ll be there.” The blonde’s tone was almost a threat as she strode away.

Exactly one hour later, Delta stood ramrod straight in Jack’s office. “I’m going to go over the profile I came up with, then I can talk to you about why Gregor doesn’t fit it, if you like.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “How does he not fit the psycho-killer vampire profile, exactly?”

Sighing, Selina waved a hand between them. “Profile first, remember? And relax, Dubois. No one is blaming you for Gregor not fitting your profile, or for him having solid alibis. I’m guessing you’d have liked him to be guilty as much as the rest of us.”

“More.” Delta chortled. “I have plenty of reason to hate his ass, but your murderer isn’t him. Though I don’t buy his ‘I was just in the neighborhood’ story for a second.” Easing her rigid stance, she wandered the room, peering at each one of the victim’s photos Jack had stuck to the wall. “Your vamp has a real hate on those who tell Normals about magic, or who are Normal and know things most humans don’t.”

“I debriefed the agents on our little adventure tonight. I hear we got a whole lot of nothing out of Gregor.” Peyton strode into the office, four cups of Starbucks nestled into a cardboard holder. As he handed them out to everyone, Selina watched Tess walk by the open door. The redhead toasted her with a matching Starbucks cup.

“Pretty much,” Selina said, so grateful for the caffeine she wanted to weep. “Delta got some goods out of him, and now she’s updating us on the profile.”

“Our guy’s got vampire snobbery down to a killing science.” Jack rubbed the nape of his neck, sipped the hot brew, and looked at Delta.

She shook her head, drinking her coffee with an appreciative sigh. “No, this is more than snobbery. This guy feels wronged by the disclosure of Magickal knowledge. Perhaps he told someone and it ended in that person’s death. Perhaps he wanted to turn someone, was denied, and he lost the person. This isn’t just about prejudice, this is personal.”

“So if he was denied, we’re looking for someone who had a beef three decades ago with a corrupt Vampire Conclave.” Selina felt her shoulders slump as hopelessness swamped her. They had so much information, it was almost too much to weed through. “That’s going to narrow it down for us.”

“Yes, since I’m one of those people, and I’m guessing you are, too, and even Gregor. No one worked for them that long or lived in that city back then without despising that Conclave. But your killer also might have a history of violence that precedes his beef with them.” The blond vampire tapped the picture of their youngest victim. A twelve-year-old who’d set her dad up with her Normal math teacher. They’d been on their honeymoon when she was murdered. “You don’t jump straight into this without some buildup. He might have tortured animals as a child, displayed obsessive behavior, had outbursts of uncontrollable anger. He might have a rap sheet prior to his first murder.”

“But considering how well he’s avoided detection, he might not,” Selina pointed out. Or he might actually know his victims, integrate himself into their lives. She’d never figured out how, but he’d learned about these people and their relations to Normals somehow. He had to be constantly researching, looking for potential targets. Like Bess.

“True.” Delta propped her shoulder against the wall and folded her arms. “So, you’re looking for someone of above-average intelligence, someone who stalks his victims, plans with care, and probably fantasizes about each killing for weeks or even months in advance. The murders are very physical and very personal—he feels like he knows them by the time he kills them, and he wants to watch them while they die.”

“And know he’s the one with the power now,” Peyton interjected, chugging his coffee.

“Exactly,” the vampire replied. “He doesn’t bother to hide the bodies or do anything to cover them or even close their eyes after they’re dead. He’s not ashamed of what he’s done. He feels completely justified, righteous, and he wants whoever finds the victims to know that, to see it.”

Pacing in front of the whiteboard filled with the victims’ stats, Jack threw a hand in Delta’s direction. “I thought a lot of serial killers attempted to contact police or the media, injecting themselves into the investigation. We haven’t seen any of that.”

“That’s true, but not all of them do.” The vampire shrugged. “He may think he’s made enough of a statement with the murder itself. It’s not just about getting away with it, it’s about living out his greatest fantasy over and over again, punishing those who have what he wanted.”

“He’s a real sweetheart.” Jack grunted.

“Yeah.” Delta straightened away from the wall. “I’m having our guys pull files for vampires who might fit the bill. Gregor is not one of them.”

“Okay, tell us why not.” Peyton crossed his legs at the ankle.

“I never rule anyone out completely. That’s just foolishness.” She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and let them drop. “Gregor is a pain in the ass, and I’m not saying he’s not involved. He was there and he has no good excuse for being there. He’s usually up to his eyeballs in guilt, but Gregor does what he does for money. It doesn’t jive with the serial killer mentality.”

Jack took a swig of coffee. “Just playing devil’s advocate, but that sounds like a good cover story to me. Kill enough people to mask the ones that are recreational.”

Delta picked up Gregor’s thick folder of misdeeds. “This is Gregor’s file. He’s a mercenary. He gets paid to protect people, to kill people, to basically make people’s lives easier if they pay him enough. He is cold, calculating, and methodical. He seems to have no moral qualms about what he does.”

“He’s also impossible to pin anything on,” Selina added wryly. She should know—she’d tried more than once. She’d gone a couple of rounds with him when Merek was her partner. Those crimes were still listed as unsolved, even though she was certain Gregor was the culprit. She just couldn’t prove it.

Delta nodded and sighed. “He’s suspected of doing a lot of illegal things. He—or his influential employers—have managed to wiggle out of anything more serious than a slap on the wrist from the All-Magickal Council. There have never been formal charges, there has never been a trial. And, despite whatever else he’s done, he’s got no record of meddling in black magic. Seriously, he’s got a list of suspected priors as long as my leg, but the kind of shit your killer has done? It’s not his style. He may feed from his victims, but he doesn’t play with his food.”

Disgusting, but well-put. Gregor talked a good game, but from what Selina had seen, his kills tended to be quick, clean, and efficient.

“His associates describe him as affable and easy to get along with. As long as you’re paying him well, he’s your best friend,” Delta continued, heavy sarcasm in her voice. No doubt she disagreed with his colleagues’ assessment. “What you’re dealing with is a lot of rage, and a compulsion that can’t be controlled. The frequency of the attacks is escalating. Your killer is losing his grip. So, what I’m saying is ... Gregor isn’t a nice man—I’m not arguing that—but he doesn’t fit the profile. Is it impossible that it’s him? No. But I also don’t think it’s likely. He has an established pattern, and this isn’t it.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks, Dubois. Pull those files on likely suspects for us. We appreciate everything you’ve done tonight, especially with loosening Gregor’s tongue a bit. I’ll ask Cavalli to lean on the Vampire Conclave to see if we can get information on who might have a grudge against the local Conclave in New Orleans.”

“Good luck with that. As Grayson pointed out, the list is pretty long. That Conclave liked to have people disappear for getting in their business. A lot of folks don’t take kindly to that, and we have long memories in the South.” Delta glided toward the door, silent in a way that only vampires could manage.

Her information gave them a little more to go on, but at this point, they knew just enough to know they didn’t know enough. Peyton growled, his fangs flashing, and Selina could feel his frustration. All of them were tense. The case grew worse by the day.

Selina finished her java and tossed the cup in the trash can in the corner. She glanced at the werewolf, whose fangs were still protruding from his gums. She checked her watch. It was a lot later than she’d thought. Or earlier, depending on one’s definition. “It’s not yet morning, but the full moon officially rises in, what, eighteen hours?”

“I know.” He stood abruptly. “I should check in with the pack. Make arrangements for tonight.”

“Is Tess going with you?”

“No. She hasn’t rampaged with the stuff Dr. Standish has her on.” His hands clenched and unclenched, unable to settle, a subtle reminder of the horrible cost of lycanthropy. “But just to be safe, she stays at the hospital for observation like all the others in the clinical trial.”

“Understandable.” Selina hoped that Chloe’s formula was approved soon. Too many wolves had already been lost during the full moon, and there weren’t enough Magickals in the world to ignore something that caused so many deaths. Then again, their serial killer fell into a similar, if smaller, category of death dealing. She pushed that aside and looked at Peyton. “Get some rest, so you’re ready to deal with the Change. We’ll see you after the moon has done her thing.”

Meaning she assumed he wouldn’t die, that she believed he could control the shift even under the duress of the full moon. He nodded his appreciation. “Thanks.”

And then he was gone. She hoped she was right and he came back. Over the years, she’d known far too many good people who’d died. It was inevitable to lose people when she’d lived this long, but it never became easy. Which was why she was here, wasn’t it? To keep this killer from taking from others the way he’d taken from her.

Determination renewed, she glanced at Jack. “Another cup of coffee and I’ll be ready to get back to work.”