Bone Crossed

“Not really Christmasy thoughts,” I told Tony. “But the colors are right. Actually, if the white wasn’t so dingy, it would almost look festive—like that little Mexican restaurant in Pasco—the one with the really hot salsa.” The fresh colors made the original paint job look tired.

“Your boyfriend still got surveillance video going?”

“Yes, but I don’t know how to run it.”

“I do,” said Zee. “Let’s go take a look.”

I glanced at him. Vampires, remember? We don’t want the nice human cops to see the vampires.

He gave me a bland look that clearly said, If the vampires were clumsy enough to get caught by the cameras, that was their problem. I couldn’t object out loud, but if the vampires made themselves obvious, it would be Tony who was in danger.

Well, I thought as I led the way into the office, at least vampires looked like everyone else. As long as they didn’t display their fangs for the camera—or throw a car around—it was unlikely they’d be spotted for what they were. And if it was obvious ... Tony wasn’t stupid. He knew a lot about how the fae and the werewolves worked, and I knew he suspected that there were a lot more nasties still keeping quiet about themselves.

While Zee played with the electronics, Tony looked at me.

“How are you?” He smelled of worry, with a little of the metallic scent of protective anger.

“Really tired of answering that question,” I replied blandly. “How about you?”

He flashed his pearly whites at me. “Good for you. Do you think Bright Future did this?”

If our minds kept working this much in sync, I’d pity poor Tony.

“Sort of. I think this is Tim’s cousin’s work,” I told him. “She’s a member of Bright Future, but she didn’t do this under their banner. Everything was directed at me—not the fae.”

“You want to press charges?”

I sighed. “I’ll call my insurance company. I’m afraid they might force me to press charges in order to be reimbursed. I can’t afford to hire someone to repaint it unless I use my insurance, and I can’t take the time off work to repaint it myself.” I still had other things to pay for—the damage a fae who wanted to eat me had done to Adam’s house and car, for instance. And Zee had told me he was collecting the rest of what I owed him on the business. Fae cannot lie, and we hadn’t had time to work that out.

“How about Gabriel’s family,” Tony suggested. “There are enough of them, and they could work after school. It would be cheaper than hiring professionals and ... I think they need the money.”

Gabriel Sandoval was my man Friday, a high school student who came in weekends and late afternoons to do paperwork, answer phones, and do whatever else needed doing.

I had a sudden vision of the shop being overrun with little Sandovals hanging from ladders and ropes. I’d let them loose in the office for cleaning, and it was almost hard to recognize the place—for a bunch of kids they were amazingly industrious. “That’s a good idea. I’ll have Gabriel call his mom as soon as he gets here.”

“Here,” said Zee. He turned on the little security monitor and flipped a switch. The system that Adam had installed was slick and expensive. It ran on motion sensors, so we only had to watch it when there was something moving. Something first moved at 10:15; we watched a half-grown rabbit bop unhurriedly across the pavement out of sight. At midnight someone appeared at the door of the garage. It wasn’t two people with spray paint, so I was pretty sure it was whoever painted a pair of crossed bones on my door.

His image was oddly shadowed, unrecognizable. The miscreant kept his face out of camera range—impressive since there was a camera placed just in front of the door to catch the face of anyone breaking in.

The only thing the camera got a clear shot of was the gloves he wore—the old-fashioned kind: white with little buttons on the wrist. There were odd glitches in the pictures, jumps where the camera turned off because there was no movement for it to follow. By the timers, it took him forty-five minutes to paint the bones on my door—of which the cameras caught about ten minutes. Part of the missing time covered how the painter got there and how he left.

I didn’t think he knew the cameras were there, and he still avoided them. Some supernatural creatures just don’t film well: by tradition, vampires are among them. The height was right for Wulfe, who would be my first choice in any vampire magicking. Since Wulfe was the vampire who knew for certain that I’d killed Andre, he was also my top suspect for the informer who had told Marsilia about my crimes.

The camera caught movement again.

“Stop it,” Tony said.

Two figures, still indistinct, froze on the edge of the lights of my parking lot, and the little numbers on the lower right of the screen read 2:08 A.M. Time had jumped almost a half hour from when the bone painter had last been there.