Dead until Dark

Pam and Long Shadow both moved suddenly, but Eric flooded the room with his presence, commanding them to be still.

"That's an interesting idea," he said. "Pam and Long Shadow are my partners in this bar, and if none of the humans is guilty, I guess we'll have to look at them."

"Just a thought," I said meekly, and Eric looked at me with the glacial blue eyes of a being who hardly remembers what humanity was like.

"Start now, with this man," he commanded.

I knelt by Bruce's chair, trying to decide how to proceed. I'd never tried to formalize something that was pretty chancy. Touching would help; direct contact clarified the transmis­sion, so to speak. I took Bruce's hand, found that too per­sonal (and too sweaty) and pushed back his coat cuff. I took hold of his wrist. I looked into his small eyes.

I didn't take the money, who took it, what crazy fool would put us in danger like this, what will Lillian do if they kill me, and Bobby and Heather, why did I work for vampires any­way, it's sheer greed, and I'm paying for it, God I'll never work for these things again how can this crazy woman find out who took the fucking money why doesn't she let go of me what is she is she a vampire, too, or some kind of demon her eyes are so strange I should have found out earlier that the money was missing and found out who took it before I even said anything to Eric . . .

"Did you take the money?" I breathed, though I was sure I already knew the answer.

"No," Bruce groaned, sweat running down his face, and his thoughts, his reaction to the question, confirmed what I'd heard already.

"Do you know who did?"

"I wish."

I stood, turned to Eric, shook my head. "Not this guy," I said.

Pam escorted poor Bruce out, brought the next interrogee.

My subject was a barmaid, dressed in trailing black with lots of cleavage on display, her ragged strawberry blond hair straggling down her back. Of course, working at Fangtasia would be a dream job for a fang-banger, and this gal had the scars to prove she enjoyed her perks. She was confident enough to grin at Eric, foolish enough to take the wooden chair with some confidence, even crossing her legs like Sharon Stone—she hoped. She was surprised to see a strange vampire and a new woman in the room, and not pleased by my presence, though Bill made her lick her lips.

"Hey, sweetie," she said to Eric, and I decided she must have no imagination at all.

"Ginger, answer this woman's questions," Eric said. His voice was like a stone wall, flat and implacable.

Ginger seemed to understand for the first time that this was a time to be serious. She crossed her ankles this time, sat with her hands on the tops of her thighs, and assumed a stern face. "Yes, master," she said, and I thought I was going to barf.

She waved an imperious hand at me, as if to say, "Begin, fellow vampire server." I reached down for her wrist, and she flung my hand away. "Don't touch me," she said, almost hissing.

It was such an extreme reaction that the vampires tensed up, and I could feel that crackling the air in the room.

"Pam, hold Ginger still," Eric commanded, and Pam ap­peared silently behind Ginger's chair, leaning over and put­ting her hands on Ginger's upper arms. You could tell Ginger struggled some because her head moved around, but Pam held her upper body in a grip that kept the girl's body ab­solutely immobile.

My fingers circled her wrist. "Did you take the money?" I asked, staring into Ginger's flat brown eyes.

She screamed, then, long and loud. She began to curse me. I listened to the chaos in the girl's tiny brain. It was like trying to walk over a bombed site.

"She knows who did," I said to Eric. Ginger fell silent then, though she was sobbing. "She can't say the name," I told the blond vampire. "He has bitten her." I touched the scars on Ginger's neck as if that needed more illustration. "It's some kind of compulsion," I reported, after I'd tried again. "She can't even picture him."

"Hypnosis," Pam commented. Her proximity to the fright­ened girl had made Pam's fangs run out. "A strong vampire."

"Bring in her closest friend," I suggested. Ginger was shaking like a leaf by then with thoughts she was compelled not to think pressing her from their locked closet. "Should she stay, or go?" Pam asked me directly.

"She should go. It'll only scare someone else."