Angel: Private Eye Book One Page 6

  Chapter 6

  I’d officially moved into Mr. Marvelous’ shop in more ways than one.

  I still couldn’t believe that barely a few hours ago I’d attended my first magical homicide, and I’d been the one to find the body.

  Mr. Marvelous had waxed lyrical to me about it on the way home. He’d been so proud that I’d been able to see through that wall spell.

  Wall spell? I didn’t know what a wall spell was. I’d just felt compelled – strangely, awfully compelled to touch that wall.

  I was sitting on the edge of my bed. If you could call it a bed. The mattress was so bowed it was like I was sleeping in the crook of somebody’s elbow. It was lumpy, too, and though I tried to settle down to sleep, at 8 o’clock in the morning I’d spent the next half an hour pulling pens and scraps of paper and old phototubes out from under the sheets.

  Though my room was unimaginably pokey, it was strangely homey at the same time. And yet Mr. Marvelous was right – it had a stunning view. An impossible view, in fact.

  It seemed to be able to look out over the entire city, even though it was ostensibly only on the third floor.

  Mr. Marvelous was out for the morning, and he’d told me to pack up my things from my apartment, fix up my room, and be ready to work on the murder case by 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

  It was already 12, and I was half furiously tired and furiously hungry. Except I couldn’t dare eat. Eat or even think of food, and another flash of that gray dead hand would snap into my mind.

  Though I didn’t have any clothes to change into, Mr. Marvelous had found a trench coat for me.

  I didn’t ask how, but as soon as I put the massive thing on, it shrunk to fit me. It was to be my only uniform, apparently. He didn’t care what I matched with it, as long as I wore that thick caramel brown trench coat wherever I went.

  On the top left lapel was a small pin with a grinning Mr. Marvelous. It was corny, but at least the trench coat was warm and did a fantastic job of keeping back the chill.

  A few minutes later I found myself reluctantly leaving the shop. It took me a full five minutes to convince myself to open the door and creep out onto the pavement outside.

  I just couldn’t calm my suspicious mind. Paranoia had settled deep into my bones, and I expected an attack from every direction.

  The only direction it came from, however, was the wind. As soon as I closed Mr. Marvelous’ shop door behind me, a great gust of wind rocketed down the street and played around my skirt, threatening to flatten it high over my head. Fortunately, the trench coat was thick enough and strong enough that the wind couldn’t even tug its hem.

  Flattening it down with a half-smile, I took several mincing, scurrying steps forward.

  I would look like an oversized mouse in an oversized jacket. And that wouldn’t be the first time someone had ever referred to me as a mouse. Sweet little innocent Elizabeth – that was my name. Well, sweet, little, and innocent may have worked when the world hadn’t known about the otherworlders, but now I was one of them, it was about the worst combination a girl could be.

  Shrugging hard into my collar, I quickly made my way across town.

  I’d called my flatmate a few times, lying to her and telling her I was totally fine and that nothing untoward had happened last night.

  I’d kinda forgotten to mention the fact I’d killed a vampire and found a dead body. That could come later, if at all.

  Sarah had been thrilled the day we’d found out the results of my DNA test and it had been confirmed I was from the otherworld. She thought it was so cool, so edgy. She had plenty of vampire friends and had apparently dated a werewolf in high school. Even though she hadn’t been aware at the time. But I doubted even Sarah would be completely okay with my nightly escapades.

  I just hoped she wasn’t home. It would be so much easier to pack up my stuff and send her an email, giving her the option of never seeing me again if she didn’t want to.

  I finally reached my apartment. My sweet little apartment set in my sweet little apartment block. Clean, new, and smack bang in the human section of town.

  The streets were wider, lined with old oaks, and the trash was taken away every day. There were no vampires roaring around on motorbikes, flipping you the bird, and there were no werewolves thronging outside of the Turkish takeaway, ordering all the kebabs.

  Peaceful, quiet, safe. Oh so safe. I held onto that word as if I could wrap my hands around it and keep it close to my chest.

  With a shaking hand, I pulled my house keys from my pocket, jammed them in the lock, and opened my door quietly.

  My apartment was small but nicely decorated. Sarah and I had both decided that it was a better idea to invest in pretty furniture than getting a bigger place that could skyrocket in rent.

  As soon as the door swung open, I took a happy breath that pushed through my chest and felt like a warm hug.

  In fact, it felt so much like a warm embrace that I brought a hand up and patted my neck distractedly, reveling in the pleasant sensation. A pleasant sensation that didn’t go away and only grew more intense.

  I stopped.

  I turned.

  Our living room was connected to the kitchen and dining room in one large open plan space.

  I turned to face the kitchen. And there, my completely ecstatic flatmate was making tea for none other than William Benson III.

  I rocked back on my foot, gaze darting toward the door, brain stupidly telling me that maybe he hadn’t seen me.

  Of course he’d seen me. I could feel his ethereal touch around my neck. That was why I felt so pleasantly warm.

  “Oh my God, Lizzie, there you are. Where have you been all night?” Sarah said as she sat down the tea and ran over to me. She hugged me tightly.

  I tugged my head back from her voluminous locks of black hair.

  She gave me a pouty, commiserating look. “William here told me everything,” as she said the name William, her lips unmistakably curled into a flirtatious smile, and she shot the man a look over her shoulder.

  William Benson leaned over and screwed the cap off the bottle of milk and finished making his tea.

  A few seconds later, when he brought his cup up to his lips and appeared to drink in the warmth, he finally returned his gaze to me.

  There it was again – that ghostly touch.

  All over my body.

  I set my lips together in a thin frown and took a step back. “What exactly is he doing in our house? Why did you invite a vampire in?”

  Sarah shot me a confused, amazed look. “Because that’s William Benson III,” she said in a harsh whisper. She leaned toward me. “Plus, he said he’s your new boss. He said he helped you out last night. He said he was worried about you. Speaking of which, Lizzie, where exactly have you been? Where did you spend last night? You look like you slept on a park bench.”

  “I slept in a storeroom,” I muttered before I realized what I was saying.

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “Look, never mind. He can’t stay.” I pointed a finger at him. Some part of me was aware that I was being bolshie toward not only the richest man in the city, but the most powerful vampire, too. Little mouse Elizabeth Luck was not a bolshie woman. But there was something about William Benson that brought it out of me.

  Benson smiled over the top of his cup.

  As my gaze slashed toward it, I realized it was mine. No, worse than that. It was my great-grandmother’s. It was bone china, and aside from my necklace, it was about the most expensive thing I owned. “What’s he doing with that?” I hissed.

  “Oh, your grandma’s cup? Sorry, it was the only cup we had that wasn’t chipped. And come on, he’s the richest, most eligible bachelor in the city.” Sarah reminded me with a pointed look.

  I dearly wanted to stride over to him, snatch up my cup, and tell him to get the hell out of my house.

  I wasn’t that stupid, though.

  He set the cup down with a steady hand and looked right at m
e.

  Before I let his hands linger over my neck, I took a pointed step behind Sarah. “He can’t stay here. He’s not welcome.”

  “Lizzie.” Sarah turned on me, surprise turning to exasperation. “What’s gotten into you? And look, I know you look like hell, but trust me, this is not a polite way to deal with your new boss.”

  “He is not my new boss,” I said loudly enough that the neighbors would be able to hear. “I work for Mr. Marvelous.”

  “Mr. who?”

  “Mr. Marvelous. He has a private eye firm on Partridge Street.”

  “Partridge Street?” Sarah appeared to search her memory. Then her cheeks became slack and hollow. “That’s deep in the otherworld section of town. What do you mean you’ve got a job for a guy like that?”

  “He’s okay,” I said.

  “Why not work for someone you can trust?” Benson smiled at that. “I’m sure it won’t pay as well as I can.”

  Sarah snapped her attention back to him, her smile becoming almost languid in its happiness. “Do you need any sugar?” she asked Benson.

  With that smile still curling his lips, he shook his head gently. “I’ve never liked things too sweet.”

  It was just a comment, and yet somehow it was laced with so much innuendo it sounded like he was inviting you back to his room.

  Sarah actually giggled. Sarah was not the kind of girl to giggle. The last time she chuckled like a girl, she’d been six years old. She also bit her bottom lip as she turned back to me. She made a face. “You don’t smell particularly good,” she said in a low tone, “Have you been sick?”

  I nodded. “I need to go and have a shower and change my clothes. By the time I’m back,” I sliced my gaze back to Benson, “You will be gone,” I said directly.

  Wow. There I went again, giving orders to William Benson.

  Sarah sucked in a shocked gasp. “Oh my God, I am so sorry. Look, she’s tired and she’s sick, and when she gets sick, she gets ratty. Just let her get clean, and I’m sure she’ll be pleasant when she comes out of the shower.”

  I squeaked in indignation, turned hard on my foot, and strode toward the bathroom.

  Sarah followed me in and closed the door. “What the hell was that? That’s William Benson III in there, don’t you think you should show a little more respect? The guy’s offering you a job.”

  “I know who that is,” I said with an exasperated half shriek as I reached over and plucked up my brush. I tried to brush my hair, but I rapidly discovered it was like trying to neaten out a bramble bush with an ear bud.

  My hair was so soaked in muck and sweat, and so knotty, I was starting to suspect I’d have to cut it all off.

  With a sigh, Sarah took the brush off me and miraculously managed to detangle my locks with several precise moves. “Seriously, Lizzie what the hell happened to you last night? I was worried.”

  My stomach knotted in true fear as I wondered whether I should tell her…. I didn’t want to tell her for two reasons. I didn’t want her to think I was any more pathetic than I already was. And more than anything I didn’t want to bring her further into this world. She may be absolutely thrilled by the fact there was a powerful vampire sitting at our chipped wood table, drinking from my grandmother’s finest teacup, but the otherworld was dark. It may sparkle at night, it may sound exciting and sexy, but its shadows were deadly.

  Once Sarah had finished brushing my hair, she accidentally brushed away the top of my collar. Then she hissed as she saw the bite marks on my neck. “Oh my God, Lizzie, what happened to you?”

  I snatched a hand on my collar and tugged it away from Sarah’s grasp. I swallowed hard and dropped my gaze to the floor.

  Sarah loomed before me. “Lizzie, what the hell happened last night?” All of the good humor was gone from her voice. It’d been replaced with tense, compassionate fear.

  I ground my bottom lip through my teeth. “Sarah, I have to move out,” I said.

  “What?!”

  “Look,” I didn’t dare tug my gaze up from the chipped tiles lest I start crying, “I have to move out. It’s no longer safe for me to stay here. I found a job, and I’m going to move into the office.”

  “Wait, Lizzie, back up. What the hell happened?”

  “I—” for half a second I thought I’d be brave enough to tell her.

  I couldn’t. The words dried up in my throat.

  “I just have to move out. It was never gonna work, anyway. You’re human, and I’m from the otherworld.” In a snap, I suddenly broke down. The stress and uncertainty of the situation undermined my remaining resolve and saw me crumple to the floor.

  Instantly, Sarah grasped my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. “Lizzie, it’s okay. Whatever’s happened, it’s okay. We’ll take you to the police. It’s okay.”

  “I don’t need to go to the police; I’ve already been there.”

  “Wait, what? You went to the police last night? Lizzie, for the love of god, tell me what happened.”

  “I just… just let me shower and dress, and get that man the hell out of this house. Okay?” I said pointedly.

  The prospect of making Benson leave was the only thing that could muster up my courage.

  Though Sarah didn’t look particularly happy about it, she pressed her lips together and nodded. “Okay, I’ll grab you some clothes.” She turned on her foot, darted out of the bathroom, and grabbed me some thick tights, a sensible skirt, and a sensible top.

  A few minutes later, I sunk under the blessedly warm water of the shower and I began to scrub myself like a monk trying to ritualistically clean himself of his sins.

  I used half a bottle of soap and washed my hair so thoroughly it practically turned to straw.

  Once I was done, a full half hour had passed. Plenty of time for Sarah to have gotten rid of Benson.

  I dressed and walked out of the room. And there he was. Still sitting exactly where I’d left him at the kitchen table, still sipping politely from my grandmother’s finest china tea cup.

  Though I’d only broken down in the bathroom half an hour before, another stab of anger rang through my mind at his presence.

  At least Sarah wasn’t simpering around him anymore. She was sitting across from him at the table, her legs crossed, a suspicious look plastered over her face.

  “Sorry, honey,” she frowned at me, “He wouldn’t leave. He pulled out some kind of contract. Says he has a legal obligation to see you. What exactly happened last night? And what happened at the police station? Were you attacked?” Sarah began to babble.

  For just a second, her questions felt like they would derail me.

  Benson cleared his throat. “Yes, your flatmate was attacked last night by a vampire. It’s a somewhat complicated situation. I’m here today to discuss the terms of this contract with your flatmate. Do you have any chocolate biscuits?” Benson suddenly turned fully to Sarah.

  She pouted at him. “What?”

  “Do you have any chocolate biscuits?”

  “Um, no.”

  “I suggest you go to the store and buy as many packets as you can carry.”

  “Ah, excuse me,” Sarah managed.

  Benson reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, plucked out a folded up piece of yellow legal pad paper, and scribbled a brand name on it. “You must buy this brand only.”

  Sarah plucked up the paper and stared at him in exasperation. If he’d been anyone other than William Benson, she would have told him to go hang.

  “My flatmate is not gonna buy you all the chocolate biscuits she can carry. If you’re peckish, I suggest you go to the store yourself.” I said pointedly.

  William settled back in his chair, tipped his head to the side, and looked at me evenly. “They’re not for me. They’re for you.”

  “I don’t want chocolate biscuits.”

  “No, but unfortunately you need them. This brand,” he pointed at the paper he’d given to Sarah, “Follows a certain unique recipe with specific healing properties.”


  “I’m sorry, what?” I shook my head in confusion.

  “You lost a lot of blood last night in a vampire attack, Miss Luck. Aren’t you feeling lightheaded, emotionally strung out? Are you finding it hard to sleep? To relax?”

  I ground my teeth together, hoping that was answer enough.

  If Sarah weren’t in the room, I’d point out that, yeah, I was experiencing all three of those symptoms, because I’d almost been killed last night.

  “Wait, are you telling me that this brand will be able to help Lizzie?” Sarah leaned in and tapped the paper with her manicured nails.

  William nodded. “She needs to keep her glucose up.”

  I snorted. “Then I’ll just dip into the sugar bowl.”

  “Please, Miss Luck, trust that I know slightly more about this arena than you do.”

  I bristled at his tone.

  Sarah, dear Sarah, jumped to her feet. She almost lurched toward her bag on the counter. Then promptly stopped. “I’m not going to leave you alone if you don’t want me to go,” she said pointedly in a clear tone Benson would be able to hear easily.

  I pressed my lips together and thought of asking her to stay but quickly realized it was better this way.

  I shook my head. “Go to the store. But don’t buy as many biscuits as you can carry. I really doubt chocolate biscuits are going to cure my symptoms,” I said dismissively.

  Sarah shrugged. “I don’t know. Manny’s boyfriend is a vampire, and he buys this brand all the time. The groupies swear by it, too.”

  I made a face.

  Sarah leaned over, tapped my arm, and shot me a commiserating look. Then she turned over her shoulder and shot Benson a defiant stare. “If you do anything to my flatmate, I’m going to take it straight to the media.”

  Benson set down his cup. “I’m a councilman, my dear, an upstanding member of society. I have no intention of harming your flatmate. I do suggest, however, that you buy those biscuits as quickly as you can. They can be quite hard to find these days.”

  Sarah shot me one last questioning look. “You sure you don’t want me to stay?” she mouthed.

  I shook my head.

  She left, and then I was alone with William Benson. In my apartment.

  He made a show of looking around. “You have taste.”

  “I thought there wouldn’t be enough black leather and lace for a vampire,” I said defiantly.

  He let out a slow light chuckle. “You don’t know much about vampires, do you?”

  I stiffened. “If this is about last night,” I swallowed. “I had absolutely no idea—”

  He brought up a hand. “We’ve already established the fact you didn’t know what your blood would do.”

  It wasn’t just my imagination – his voice became strained on the word blood. Not so strained that he was seconds from jumping up and sucking me dry, but enough to notice.

  “Why exactly are you in my apartment?” I got straight down to business. “And why are you using my grandmother’s teacup?”

  He’d just drawn it up and placed it against his lips. He settled it there for several seconds, glancing down at the bone china.

  I dearly wanted to thrust forward and snatch it off him, but that would bring me entirely too close to the vampire king.

  “It’s antique,” he pointed out as if I was too stupid not to have realized that.

  “Yes, I’m fully aware of that. Just as I’m aware of the fact it is one of the most expensive things I own. So put it down and don’t break it.”

  He arched an eyebrow, delicately placing the cup down and turning the handle toward me with the soft touch of a man who’d been handling fine china his whole life. “Don’t worry, Miss Luck, I know just how to handle fragile objects.”

  My stomach lurched. I crossed my arms as tightly as I could, crumpling the fabric of my shirt. “Why are you here?” I asked once more.

  He leaned back, reached a hand into his pocket, and pulled out a vial.

  I doubled back. I wasn’t an idiot. Though the glass ampoule could technically have been used for drugs, this was a vampire here.

  “What is that?” I hissed.

  He placed the glass down right next to the china teacup and tapped them both with the tips of his fingers. “This is the next stage of your contract. You agreed that you would allow me to find out why your blood managed to kill a vampire. Surely you can appreciate I need a sample of your blood to accomplish this task.”

  My hand went up and clutched my wound from last night.

  It took several seconds before Benson allowed his gaze to drift toward my collar. And, you guessed it, I shivered as I felt his ethereal hands tracing along my jaw.

  “Could you please not do that,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “Not do what?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re looking at me like that.”

  “Looking at you like what?”

  This was descending into a conversation between two stubborn three-year-olds.

  I bared my teeth. “I can feel your ethereal hands around my throat. Now get them the hell off me.”

  Benson frowned. Maybe he was putting it on, maybe he wasn’t. My first impression was that my comment had floored him.

  I still kept my teeth bared, but half a second later I felt his ghostly fingertips drop from around my cheeks, their gentle touch giving way to the ever so slight breeze shifting in through the open window in the lounge room.

  I sighed in relief.

  Benson looked as if he were concentrating for several seconds, then he returned his attention to me. “You’re more sensitive to magic than you led me to believe, Miss Luck.”

  My stomach kicked. “What does that mean?”

  “It takes a certain kind of practitioner to be able to feel a vampire’s glance.”

  “I’m not a complete idiot. I’ve read about them in the newspaper and the magazines. I know full well that a vampire can use their eyes like a set of hands,” I said with an uncomfortable shiver that ran so hard into my stomach I almost wanted to gasp.

  Benson smiled. “That’s true, but believe it or not, we don’t look at just anyone like that. And I assure you, Miss Luck, I was not using such a skill on you.”

  “Then why exactly could I feel your hands around my neck?” I said through clenched teeth.

  “You must be a lot more sensitive to this magical world than you assume.”

  I didn’t like that answer and took a pointed step back as if I were trying to bodily remove myself from the point. “Look, it doesn’t matter.” My gaze locked back on that vial. “What exactly do you want me to do with that? If you expect I’m going to let you bleed me dry—”

  He brought a hand up. “Of course I have no intention of bleeding you dry. Believe it or not, I have every intention of holding up my end of the contract. I will find out what unique properties your blood has, just as long as you have every intention of holding up your end of the contract,” his tone dipped.

  “I haven’t run into any vampires since last night. I haven’t given anyone my blood. Happy?”

  Benson placed two fingers on the vial and pushed it toward me. “Go to a pathology and fill this up.”

  I huffed. “And then what, doctor? Post it back to you?”

  “No. You will hand it back to me. The contract you have, Miss Luck, is between you and me, so you will be dealing with me personally.” He rose from the table. The china teacup rattled against its plate until he reached out a quick hand and stilled it.

  He kept his gaze on me, but thankfully I could no longer feel his fingers tracing down the line of my jaw.

  He cleared his throat, neatened his jacket, and walked toward the window behind the couch. He placed his hands behind his back, angled his head, and stared at the city below. Though this apartment was cute, the view was hardly fantastic. Sure, you could see a slice of the city if you tipped your head on the right angle and stared past the bushy leaves of an oak.

  Benson continue
d to watch the view like a hawk until he turned and nodded once. “Whatever happens, Miss Luck, be assured that the deal is still on the table.”

  “What deal?”

  “You can come and work for me anytime you wish. All you have to do is walk into one of my buildings and ask to see me. I assure you, no matter what I’m doing, I’ll drop it and gladly accept your signature.” There was an unmistakable curl to his lips as he smiled on the word signature.

  It made my lips stiffen all the harder. “There is no goddamn way I am ever going to work for you.”

  He shrugged. “You will, however, fill that vial and give it to me. And you will – no matter what happens – not give your blood to any vampires. Do you understand?” He smiled around his teeth, and it was the first time I’d seen his fangs. Either he had the ability to hide them, or he’d learned to speak in such a way that his lips obscured their permanently glistening sharp tips.

  He saw me staring at them, and he chuckled. “Good luck with the murder,” he said.

  I jolted. “What?!”

  “The case from last night. Please let me know if you require an appointment.”

  “I’m not following you,” I hissed.

  “Detective Cortez has already informed me that it is likely your murder suspect Miss Smith was killed by a vampire.”

  My eyes widened in terror. “You know who killed her?” I couldn’t control the outrage that burst through my voice.

  He shook his head. “I’m the representative for the vampire clans in this city, but I do not control them. You overestimate my abilities and reach, Miss Luck.” On the word reach, I swore I felt his fingers on my neck once more.

  I pointedly brought a hand up and tapped my throat, hiding it. “Aren’t you meant to control the vampires, though? Aren’t you meant to be responsible for what they do?”

  He chuckled. “Is the president of the country responsible for every petty crime committed by its citizens?”

  “This isn’t a petty crime,” I spat. “A woman was killed last night,” my voice shook, and there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do to steady it. Nor should it be steadied. Murder seemed to be too easily palatable to the creatures of the otherworld. The sanctity of life lost its meaning around these people.

  “I am not suggesting this crime was anything other than abhorrent. All I’m saying is that should you find yourself needing information about the vampires, come to me.”

  “I don’t understand. Can’t you just use your contacts to find out who murdered her?”

  He smiled. It was an unmistakable smile. It was the kind of smile you gave to an idiot. “You don’t understand much about this world, do you, Miss Luck?”

  “Would you stop calling me that?”

  “What?”

  “Miss Luck.”

  “It’s your name.”

  “My name’s Lizzie.”

  “Call me an old, formal soul, but for now I prefer Miss Luck. And you have much to learn. My only counsel to you would be to be careful now. The otherworld is dangerous, dark, and deadly. It doesn’t abide innocence well.”

  On the word innocence, a tight shiver ran down my spine. I hid it as I stared up at him defiantly.

  “Anyway, Miss Luck, have a good day.”

  With that, he waved cordially and let himself out of the apartment. Before he closed the door, he reminded me to enjoy my biscuits.

  As the door shut, I swore at him. I pressed my hands into fists, bit my lips, and shrieked at the room, even going so far as to grabbing one of the cushions from the couch and chucking it at the wall.

  You guessed it. I was not the kind of girl who threw tantrums.

  But I had to face one thing: the kind of girl I was, was changing.