Heart of the Vampire: Episode 2 Page 9

  “There’s something interesting about Thompson’s clothes,” Hailey said importantly, pulling a jacket out of the closet, seemingly at random.

  Dru leaned in, trying to see if there was anything noticeable about the jacket. It was dark gray, similar cut to everything she’d seen him wear already.

  “This is from the Cole & Sons J.C. Penney line, fall of last year,” Hailey said.

  “Okay,” Dru said.

  “Now look at this one,” Hailey said, whipping an Oxford shirt out of the closet. “Same thing, J.C. Penney, last fall.”

  “How do you know?” Dru asked.

  Hailey raised one eyebrow.

  “Okay, okay, you’re getting ready to start your own fashion empire,” Dru conceded.

  “Where do you think this one came from?” she asked, pulling out a wool sweater.

  “Last fall, J. C. Penney?” Dru asked.

  “Yep, Cole & Sons again,” Hailey said.

  “Are you sensing a pattern?” Channing asked triumphantly.

  “Is this true of every single item of clothing he has?” Dru asked.

  “Everything here,” Hailey said. “Same line, same season.”

  “What does this mean?” Dru asked.

  “It could mean a lot of things,” Channing said.

  “Like what?” Dru asked.

  “Maybe he lost a lot of weight and bought himself a new wardrobe,” Hailey suggested.

  “Maybe he gained a lot of weight and bought new clothes,” Channing offered.

  “Could have been a new job,” Hailey said.

  “Wouldn’t he have kept his old pajamas?” Channing asked.

  “Maybe he had a house fire?” Dru ventured.

  “A house fire,” Channing said, nodding. “Very good. That’s an excellent guess. And along those same lines, a tornado or hurricane is a possibility.”

  “Could be lost luggage if there’s an outlet mall around here,” Hailey said.

  “But wouldn’t there be tags on some of this?” Dru asked. “He’s only been here a few days.”

  “True,” Hailey said.

  “At any rate, it’s a fantastic clue,” Channing said. “And I never would have noticed on my own.”

  Hailey gave a funny little bow and they all clapped.

  “You know what’s odd?” Dru said thoughtfully. “Hazel and Honey mentioned his clothes too.”

  “Seriously?” Hailey asked. “Those two ladies are on point.”

  “Well, they didn’t notice the season,” Dru said. “But Hazel said he wasn’t dressed the way he should be to be in the mob. I guess he wasn’t flashy enough?”

  “You think he’s in the mob?” Hailey squeaked.

  “It’s one theory,” Channing allowed. “Please don’t share it.”

  “Sorry,” Dru offered.

  “My lips are sealed,” Hailey said, pretending to zip her lips. Her eyes were still wide above her closed mouth.

  “So if he’s in the mob, why would he have all this new, cheap, unfashionable clothing?” Dru asked. “It is unfashionable, right Hailey?”

  “Oh, without a doubt,” Hailey said.

  “It could still have been a fire or an act of nature,” Channing said.

  “Or it could have been an act of man,” Dru said, realizing.

  “What?” Channing asked.

  “What if he’s in witness protection?” Dru asked. “What if he was going to testify against someone, and they moved him into a new life, and that’s why all his clothes are new, but cheap?”

  It was a wild notion, but the pieces fit.

  Channing stared at her in wonder.

  “I mean, it’s kind of an over the top idea,” Dru admitted. “But it would explain the clothes and the behavior - maybe even the murder, if someone had a score to settle form his old life.”

  She started mentally running down the list of guests for possible mobsters. Or maybe that was the wrong direction. Maybe it was a civilian that he’d crossed in his mob days, someone looking for revenge.

  “What would he be doing traveling if he’s in witness protection?” Hailey asked.

  “I have no idea,” Dru admitted.

  “No one else here seems like they would be in the mob,” Hailey said.

  “Brian didn’t seem like a mobster to us either,” Channing said. “This is an excellent theory.”

  They were all staring at her and smiling in admiration.

  Dru began to feel embarrassed.

  “I guess I’d better get down to the desk,” she said.

  “Sure,” Hailey said. “Zander is covering for me right now. He’ll be glad to see you.”

  Viktor had been leaning against the wall. He straightened and moved to Dru’s side.

  “He’s been covering a lot,” Dru said.

  “Well, he’s used to going home and having a life,” Hailey said. “Unlike the two of us.”

  “So true,” Dru said. “See you later.”

  She headed downstairs with Edgar Allan Crow, Viktor following close behind.

  21

  A few hours later, Dru pushed Gert’s cart down the corridor, allowing the peaceful silence of the sleeping hotel to wash over her.

  It was about five in the morning, and she had only a few more hours of her shift to go.

  It had been a busier night than usual. The guests were finally feeling less frightened and more frustrated.

  Without Gert or Constance, they had been a whole day without fresh towels and hot meals.

  And the wind continued to blast the hotel with freezing air slipping in through every charming drafty window and doorway. The heat of the fireplaces was barely enough to keep the edge off.

  And without internet or any kind of outside contact to distract them, the guests were going a little stir-crazy.

  Dru had spent half her shift working through the dwindling piles of clean laundry. Now she was delivering bundles of fresh towels. If the generator didn’t come on soon, they were going to run out within the next day or two.

  Gert would have died if she had known Dru was wadding up the towels and shoving them in plastic bags to hang on guest doors instead of folding them into swans with military precision.

  But Dru was doing her best, and that would just have to be enough.

  It wasn’t fun, but it was nice to stay busy. It helped her not obsess over Viktor, who was waiting for her back at the front desk.

  Had he known her Nana?

  Was there something between them? Something that had drawn her into his arms.

  Something that made her dream of him even before he arrived.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Dru,” she muttered to herself as she hung a bag of towels on the door of the Topaz room for the Wilders.

  She crossed the landing toward the northern end of the occupied wing.

  Viktor’s three doors were grouped here, away from the others.

  Why had he chosen these three rooms that were up against the abandoned wing and across the landing from the other rooms? Or was there no real reason? Maybe she was just overthinking things.

  Dru started to hang a bag of towels on his door and hesitated.

  No one was around.

  And Viktor was at the desk for her, watching over the raven while she dropped off the clean laundry. She’d managed to convince him to let her out of his sight for a few minutes since everyone was sleeping.

  Quickly, she slipped out her skeleton key and slid it into the door before she could change her mind. She stepped inside and closed it behind herself, afraid someone might wander into the hallway and notice her.

  Leaning back against the door, she tried to figure out what she was doing. She had searched the room already, and there was nothing here. Some clothing, those ancient trunks, and that was all.

  But she stepped further inside anyway. Holding her candle high to dispel some of the gloom.

  She breathed in his clean scent and gazed over the room.

  It was the same as before - sheets draped over the m
irrors and windows like ghosts, a few items hanging in the open closet, and the creepy trunks.

  Last time she was in this room, she had checked the closets, the drawers, all the surfaces.

  She hadn’t checked the bed.

  Most people wouldn’t hide anything in their bedding.

  But most people slept in their beds.

  Viktor didn’t sleep in his bed. She wasn’t sure where he slept, though she was pretty sure it had something to do with the trunks. But she was sure it wasn’t the bed.

  Before she could lose her nerve, she ran to the bed and began stripping it, setting the candle on the bedside table.

  She pulled off the pillows, but there was nothing strange underneath.

  She didn’t find anything under the comforter or the sheet, but of course nothing would be there. Gert would have come across it while changing the sheets.

  She eyed the mattress.

  It was enormous. She was pretty sure she could get it off the bed, but was afraid she might not be able to wrestle it back on by herself.

  But she was already sliding her hands under the mattress, heaving it up and pushing with all her might.

  At first, she thought her efforts were in vain.

  But when she lifted the fitted sheet from the box spring, she spotted something beneath.

  Her hands shook a little as she reached for the plain, brown paper.

  What am I even looking for?

  She pulled out a manila envelope. It was unmarked.

  She looked around, feeling silly for doing so. She was obviously alone in the dark room.

  She carried the envelope over to the dresser, along with the candle, and pulled out the contents. A few pieces of paper slid out.

  The first two pages seemed to be a profile of someone. There was a name at the top “Little” Nicky Costello.

  She scanned the page and saw a rundown of crimes, spanning from burglary to solicitation to rape. Between the crimes and the name, it all sounded like something out of a mob movie.

  Hurriedly, she flipped over the pages of the profile, and gasped when she saw what was underneath.

  It was a black and white mug shot of a very familiar face - a face she had just used to unlock a phone screen - a face that had pressed close to her own, smelling of onions and cheap cologne - a face that was currently decomposing in a rolled-up rug a few floors below her feet.

  Viktor…

  Why do you have a picture of Brian Thompson in your room?

  But she already knew why.

  The man she was falling in love with was obviously a murderer.

  22

  Dru worked on autopilot as her mind raced.

  She slid the papers and the picture back into the envelope and placed it on the box spring. She pulled the fitted sheet on top, yanked and tugged the mattress back into place, then grabbed the candle from the dresser, and stepped back out into the corridor.

  There was no one in the hall. No one had seen her go in or out.

  Viktor was probably the only other person awake in the hotel at this hour.

  Vampire. He’s a vampire, not a person.

  She took a deep breath and tried to pull herself together.

  She knew better than to confront him.

  But each time she closed her eyes she could see the pool of blood surrounding Brian Thompson.

  What if it hadn’t all been there? How would anyone have known if some of it had been missing?

  And the gaping slash across the throat could have easily been made to cover up the appearance of two little holes…

  “Drucilla?” Viktor called softly from the bottom of the stairs.

  She startled, then tried to pull herself together.

  “Coming,” she called back, moving to the landing.

  He stood below, his blue eyes pale and worried.

  He didn’t look like a murderer. He didn’t feel like one either.

  But Dru knew too much at this point to believe her instincts.

  She paused at the top of the stairs, not wanting to go to him, but afraid to do anything that would tell him she had seen the file.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  “Fine,” she said, forcing herself to descend and bring herself closer to him.

  Scared as she was, it was impossible not to notice how he drew her to him.

  In the cold light of her new knowledge, she tried to pick the feeling apart. Why was she pulled to him?

  But it defied logic.

  The attraction she felt wasn’t purely physical. It wasn’t sympathy or fascination.

  He was familiar. Even now, he felt like home to her shivering soul.

  She made it to the bottom step, and he reached out to touch her arm.

  “Drucilla,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”

  “I was in your room,” she heard herself say.

  He stiffened, pale blue eyes narrowing slightly.

  “I found the file,” she whispered.

  He didn’t murder her for it. He didn’t even get angry.

  He just let his hand drop from her arm.

  “Why, Viktor?” she asked. “Why would you kill him?”

  “I didn’t,” he told her. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I did not kill that man.”

  She blinked at him, slowly realizing that the one she shouldn’t trust was herself.

  Because, despite all odds, she truly wanted to believe him.

  “Let’s go someplace private to talk,” he said. “I want to explain.”

  She shook her head slowly. “No, I won’t go anywhere alone with you.”

  The hurt in his eyes cut her heart, and she stood before him bleeding.

  “Can we talk in the sitting room?” he asked.

  Here in the lobby someone could be close enough to hear them without their noticing. The sitting room was removed, but if she screamed, she might still be heard. And it was a public space.

  It made sense.

  She nodded and he smiled, hope lighting up his face.

  He gestured and she led the way down the hall past the lobby and the kitchen to the sitting room, where she chose a chair near the fireplace.

  Had they really only been in here a few hours ago, listening to Hazel and Honey?

  It felt like a lifetime to Dru.

  Viktor lowered himself into the chair opposite hers.

  “I’m going to be honest with you,” he told her. “Even if it means you will think less of me. You deserve the truth.”

  Dru watched silently emotions warred on his face before he continued.

  “I came to Hemlock House to kill Brian Thompson,” he said.

  Dru gripped the arms of her chair.

  “But I didn’t kill him,” Viktor said with a sigh. “Let me explain.”

  She nodded, feeling more stupid for sticking around with each passing moment.

  “I told you before that I can feed on animals to stave off my need for human blood,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “But I can’t fully live without it,” he went on, looking down at his hands. “Once every year or two, I have to feed on human blood. And my time is past due.”

  She bit her lip. She did remember him saying that. Stave off, not quench. And she had chosen not to ask the obvious follow-up question. She hadn’t wanted to know.

  “I choose my targets carefully,” he said. “The lowest of the low. Rapists, murderers, people who bring nothing but misery to the world. Little Nicky Costello was one of those people. I could have killed him for what he did to you alone. Can you imagine how many other women he has assaulted? How many women do you think there are whose stories don’t even appear on that report you found, because they’re afraid of his connections? Or because they disappeared before they ever had the chance?”

  Viktor rose from his chair and began pacing.

  “Nicky had connections to the Irish mob. But he was too much of a loose cannon even for them. He became a liability. When he realized they were planning to cut
him off, he agreed to testify against another mobster in exchange for immunity. He was placed in the witness protection program. You were correct about that. It was very clever of you.”

  He smiled proudly, then his face grew dark again.

  “Can you imagine?” he asked. “A monster like that was going to spend the rest of his life in peace, protected by the federal government. The whole idea of it makes me sick.”

  He stopped pacing and turned to Dru.

  “I have rules, Drucilla. One is that I never kill in anger, which is the only reason Costello made it past that night I caught him with you.”

  She turned in her seat to watch him warily.

  “Another is that I do my homework,” he said. “I’ve been tracking Little Nicky Costello for months. And when I found out he was coming here, I knew the time was right. This place was calling to me anyway. I had to come.”

  He stopped and knelt before her.

  “But Drucilla, I never would have killed him in that way, leaving a frightening mess and a mystery behind,” he said. “I brought the file to leave with his body, all of which I would have tucked away where no one would find it by accident. I planned to give an anonymous call to the police after I left, so they could discover it in the woods. They would have assumed his past finally caught up to him. Which would have been true, in a way.”

  She shuddered at the idea.

  “I know it doesn’t change what I am, Drucilla,” he whispered pleadingly. “And it won’t change your feelings. But I want you to know that I didn’t kill him. But it was only because I didn’t have the chance. Someone else got to him first.”

  “What does it matter?” she wondered out loud. “You’re still a killer.”

  “I am,” he agreed.

  “It’s in your nature,” she said.

  “It didn’t used to be,” he told her. “Even now, it disgusts me.”

  She gazed into the fire. It was dying. Unless someone added fuel soon, it would sputter out. Her heart was feeling the same way.

  “What happens if you don’t have human blood?” she asked.

  “I get my warmth from the blood of the creatures I consume,” he said. “You’ve noticed I’m not cold, like the vampires in the fairytales?”

  She nodded.