Misguided Angel (Blue Bloods 5)

“Babe? You still up there?” Bryce called.

“Be down in a sec, sweetie,” she called. The girlfriend role wasn’t one she had played before, at least not for an assignment, although she had had boyfriends, of course—everyone did nowadays. It was becoming terribly fashionable to play with those eternal bonds, to flirt with destiny. The older generation was taken aback by how casual the newest incarnation of vampires were with their heavenly duties. Look what had happened to Jack Force—a real shame. What a waste. He would be put on trial to burn the minute he returned to New York. If the Coven still existed, that is. Otherwise, Deming had no doubt that Mimi would hunt Jack down herself, even without a trial.

Deming was always careful not to get too involved with any boys, and to cut it off before it became serious. She knew as well as anyone that once you found your bondmate and identified each other in the c

ycle, it was Game Over.

As for Bryce, his immortal history had checked out clean as well, regardless of his dark angel profile. However, she noticed that his affectus was obscured, a cloudy white, which meant he was hiding something. Whether it had anything to do with Victoria’s murder, Deming couldn’t tell yet. She had to find a way to get closer to him somehow, so she could read his memory and find out what he was keeping in shadow. She didn’t like to feel rushed, but with the Regent demanding daily reports, Deming had to find a way to ramp up her game.

The glom memory from Jamie Kip’s apartment had backed up the eyewitness stories—Victoria had left Evan on the couch and hung out with Froggy and Bryce at the end of the party. There were no spirit traces that indicated an assault or a kidnapping in some way. If she had been taken against her will, Deming would have sensed it. No. Victoria had left with a friend, but one who was no friend to her. Was it Bryce? Was that what he was hiding? Had his dark angel tendencies taken over? She did not want to be prejudiced against him, but it was hard not to be when there was no other explanation.

Deming made sure the room was as messy as she’d found it and climbed down the stairs to find Bryce and his friends sprawled on the couches in the Kernochans’ shrouded family room. Like many wealthy New Yorkers, their home was filled with museum-quality, priceless art and antiques lovingly chosen by a decorator on a monthly retainer. Yet, as Deming understood, no one ever used any of those beautiful, perfect rooms.

Instead, the designer always left one windowless room in the back, filled with comfortable couches and a giant TV, which meant that ninety percent of life in the town house was spent in one crowded room, while the rest of the expansive apartment sat empty, ready for its close-up for a Shelter magazine shoot that would never be allowed. The Blue Blood elite kept low profiles—the better to keep the masses from getting wind of their privilege and rising up to chop off their heads. Even if Marie Antoinette had survived (she was currently in cycle in the European Coven as one of the world’s most famous and demanding movie stars—with her taste for cake intact), the vampires had learned their lesson.

“We were thinking of heading up to Rufus’s in Greenwich. He’s having people over this weekend,” Bryce said. “Chopper’s going to pick us up in an hour. We’re staying over; you in?”

An overnight trip, twenty-four hours with her mysterious new boyfriend and her prime suspect in the death of an immortal. This was the opportunity she was looking for. She gave him a brilliant smile and promised to meet him at the helipad with her bags ready.

THIRTY-ONE

House Party

The King estate sat on twenty acres of beachfront property in southwestern Connecticut. Rufus’s father was one of those hedge fund types who had managed to make money off the recession instead of losing it, by betting against the economy. Deming wondered how much of that fit in with the Vampire Code to enlighten the human race. It seemed in the present, many of the vampires were not interested in helping humanity as much as they were interested in helping themselves to as much as possible.

It was dark when they arrived, the party already in full swing. Deming followed the boys into the house to find the hallway littered with tossed-off backpacks and discarded clothing. Loud rap music was playing, accompanied by splashing noises. Rufus King, who had graduated the year before and was a freshman at Yale, greeted them with expansive hugs. “Hey, thanks for coming. Pool’s in the back.”

The house had an outdoor pool covered by a tarp, as well as an indoor pool located in a glass atrium in the middle of the house. Deming walked with the group toward it. Bryce’s friends were already in the water, so he immediately removed his pants, shirt, and socks and dove in with a loud whoop, wearing only his boxer shorts.

“Hey guys,” she said, walking over to the clique of girls dangling their feet in the water.

“Oh hi, how was the copter ride?” Stella asked, but then turned away before Deming could answer. No one else bothered to say hello. Piper made a face before turning away. Piper had taken Deming’s blow off the other day to heart, and had not been friendly ever since. But then again, Piper was exactly the sort of girl who would be annoyed that her new friend had found a boyfriend. Some girls were just built that way, and there was nothing Deming could do about it. Not that she cared. She wasn’t here to make friends.

Deming felt a bit impatient for being stuck at a silly party. She was only there so she could finally cross Bryce Cutting off her suspect list. After tonight, if Bryce’s affectus didn’t reveal anything related to the case, she would take another look at the case file. She had been convinced that she would find her killer in this group of hedonistic self-centered teenagers, but after a week in their company, she began to think she might be on the wrong track. It annoyed her to have wasted so much time: Victoria’s killer was still out there, and the Regent was counting on her to keep the Coven together.

She left the girls and found an empty bedroom, where she could change into her swimsuit. After she was dressed, she joined a bunch of kids who were gathered around the bar in the kitchen, surprised to find that a few of them were Red Bloods.

One of the boys looked up when she came near. “Hey, Deming, right?” he said. She had seen him around the Repository, arguing with another scribe who was stuffing books into boxes. The Regent was right to worry; the Conclave wasn’t playing around. If Mimi couldn’t find a way to stop them, they were going to take the vampires underground again.

“You’re Oliver,” she said, shaking his hand. “Mimi’s friend.” She had bumped into him once leaving the Regent’s office.

Oliver’s lips twitched. “That’s a new one. She’s not my friend here.”

“Nor mine,” she told him, and they shared a conspiratorial laugh.

“I didn’t know there were going to be humans at the party,” she told him, accepting a red Solo cup full of grain alcohol and a dash of Mountain Dew. The liquor was for the humans. It made their blood taste sweeter during the Caerimonia, for when the vampires would drink later.

“We’re friends with Gemma Anderson, Stella’s Conduit. As for all the one-lifers on the guest list, I think this is one of those recruitment parties,” he said, meaning the Blue Bloods had invited a group of humans they thought would make good familiars. A “tasting party,” they sometimes called it.

“Your hat’s not in the ring, though,” she said, noticing the small bite marks on his neck. “All the good ones are always taken.”

Oliver smiled at that, but it was a wan smile, and it told her everything she had to know. Whoever his vampire was, she was no longer with him. Poor sap.

“Do you know Paul?” Oliver asked, turning to the guy hovering behind her.

“We’re in Spirit of the Self together. Hi,” Deming said.

“You mean Satan and Self-Interest,” Paul said with a sly grin.