Dark Debt (Chicagoland Vampires 11)

This time, the smile was all Reed’s and a bit maniacal. “Ah,” he said, lifting his cell phone, wiggling it a bit. “It looks like help has arrived. And lest you think I’ve called them because I fear you—let me clarify things for you.” He put the phone on his desk and leaned forward. “I’ve called them to remind you that you don’t hold the upper hand. You never have, and you never will. This city is beholden to me, and its debt has come due.”

I’d thought Balthasar narcissistic, psychopathic. But the crazed desire in Balthasar’s eyes had nothing on the utter malevolence in Reed’s.

With that statement freezing the air, Detective Jacobs walked in, two uniformed cops behind him. Reed pasted on a relieved smile with shocking speed. “Thank you for getting here so quickly.”

“Of course, Mr. Reed,” Jacobs said, glancing at us. “I understand your visitors are unwelcome.”

“What they are,” Reed said, “is harassing me. And I understand the CPD takes vampire harassment very seriously these days.”

“Of course they do.” Jacobs looked at us with disappointment in his eyes. “And my apologies for the delay. A transformer burst, so traffic and streetlights are out. It’s very dark out, and they’ve had to reroute traffic.”

Adrien made some vague sound, didn’t seem to care much about the CPD’s logistical concerns. But we understood it. That was our code phrase, the signal we’d worked out before visiting the Circle on Torrance Island. Jacobs wanted us to play along.

Jacobs took Ethan by the arm, and Ethan made a good show of shaking him off. “Get your damn hand off me!”

“You know I can’t do that, Mr. Sullivan. Not when you’ve come into someone’s home, threatened them.”

Ethan’s expression was perfectly superior. “I did no such thing. The housekeeper let us in!”

“Mmm-hmm. Your lawyers can discuss that with you at the station.” He smiled back at Mr. Reed. “Once again, sir, I’m very sorry for the interruption. Chuck Merit doesn’t appreciate his reputation being tarnished, and I’m sure he’ll have some choice words for his granddaughter.”

“I hope he does,” Reed said, not bothering to hide the gleam in his eyes as an officer led me to the door with a heavy grip on my arm. “They should learn to respect those who’ve earned their success.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Jacobs said. He glanced at the clock on the wall behind Reed’s desk. “I hate to inconvenience you further considering the hour. Perhaps I could call you tomorrow for your statement?”

“That would be acceptable,” Reed said, clearly pleased by Jacobs’s apparent deference.

Jacobs nodded. “In that case, we’ll clear out and leave you to your evening. Do take care to lock up afterward. You never know who you’ll find on the doorstep.”

*   *   *

This might be the worst date I’ve ever been on, I mused as the officers escorted us silently down the gallery and out of the house.

Oh, I doubt that, Ethan said behind me.

That’s not flattering, Sullivan.

It wasn’t meant to insult you, but the boys you dated. Had any of them the guile to win you, they’d have done so. But seeing as you’re here with me . . .

Just stop there, I advised him, before you dig that hole any deeper.

“Put them in my car,” Detective Jacobs said to the uniforms. “I’ll take them back to the station.”

The cops looked at each other. “You don’t, uh, want us to go with you?” asked the one who held me, free hand on his club as if there was a possibility I’d take a swing at a cop.

“Unnecessary,” Jacobs said with a smile. “I’ve handled these two before.” He patted his coat as if he held a secret weapon there. “And I know just how to do it. I’ll even take care of the paperwork.”

“That’d actually be great,” said my cop, looking very relieved. “I’ve got a pile on my desk. I mean”—he glanced at his partner—“it’s not exactly protocol . . .”

“But, then,” Jacobs said, “neither is coming to the home of a millionaire to arrest vampires he’s apparently invited through the door.”

“He does have a point,” said Ethan’s cop. Ethan watched the discussion with amusement, apparently nonplussed about the fact that his arrest was the topic of conversation.

“If you could just get them into my car,” Jacobs prompted, and they nodded, opened the back door of a sedate gray sedan, gestured us inside. I squeezed in after Ethan, and they closed the door with a heavy thud.

“Twenty-eight years without so much as a speeding ticket,” I said, glancing at him, “and you get me arrested for trespassing.”

Ethan snorted. Jonah usually accompanied me during investigations, so Ethan didn’t often get the chance to do the fieldwork. He seemed to be enjoying it—both the highs and lows. Maybe he saw it as a break from administration and paperwork. Or maybe he just appreciated being my partner in the other sense of the word.