The Trouble With Vampires (An Argeneau Novel) Page 2

  “Yes. Good night,” Pet said as she watched them leave, but doubted if they’d even heard her. There hadn’t been much power behind the words. She watched Oksana hop up into the truck, but as it pulled away, her eyes shifted to Marguerite and the men. Her wary gaze followed them until they disappeared around the hedges that lined the driveway between her sister’s house and the Caprellis’.

  “Come on,” Parker said, heading back upstairs as she closed and locked the door. “I left the game running and we’re both probably dead by now. We’ll have to start from the last save.”

  “Are you sure you want to play with me? I mean, if I’m so lame . . .” Pet drawled dryly, still smarting from the earlier comment.

  “Well, it’s not like there’s anyone else here to play with,” he said, pausing on the steps to grin back at her.

  “You hugged me when I got here and said I was your favorite aunt,” she reminded him with exasperation. “Now I’m lame? Which is it?”

  “Both,” he said with a grin and then pointed out, “You’re my only aunt. That makes you my favorite, lame or not.”

  Pet’s gaze narrowed. “When did you become such a little smart-as—aleck?” she ended, catching herself before she finished the cuss.

  But not quick enough. She could tell by Parker’s knowing look before he shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

  Scowling at him, she started up the stairs.

  “But Dad blames you for it,” he added.

  Pet stopped, her head snapping up with shock. “What?”

  Parker nodded. “He thinks I spend too much time under your ‘undue influence’ and it has led to a bad attitude. His words,” he added.

  Pet ground her teeth with irritation. Her sister was married to an arrogant asshat. Pet had never liked him and had no idea why Quinn had married the man.

  On the other hand, if she hadn’t, there would be no Parker, and Pet did love the little smart-ass dearly, so . . . Giving him a push to get him moving up the stairs again, she growled, “I’m so gonna shoot you in the butt. On purpose this time.”

  “You can try,” Parker taunted, rushing eagerly up the rest of the stairs.

  Pet followed more slowly, her smile fading and gaze sliding back to the front door as her troubled thoughts returned to her sister’s temporary new neighbors . . . and their glowing eyes.

  Two

  “So that’s the boy who made the 911 call.”

  Santo glanced to Bricker when he made that comment as they filed into the Caprellis’ country-style kitchen. Noting Bricker’s frown, he asked, “Problem?”

  “No.” Bricker settled into one of the chairs at the table. “I read him when Marguerite asked about neighbors, and he’s definitely worried about this Mr. Purdy.”

  “Sì.” Santo leaned against the light-colored kitchen counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Smiling at his aunt, he added, “It was clever of you to ask that.”

  “Yes,” Bricker acknowledged as Zani settled in the chair next to his. “It made Parker think of his worries for the old man. His call definitely wasn’t a prank.”

  “We told you that when you got here,” Marguerite reminded them as she put the teakettle on to boil.

  “Yes, but you hadn’t talked to him yet,” Bricker pointed out. “And you hadn’t talked to Purdy either, so you couldn’t know for sure.”

  “I told you, the boy was in school when we got here,” Marguerite said, sounding irritated at the implied criticism. She walked to the table and sat down across from Bricker and Zani before continuing. “We would have gone over after he came home but were waiting on you boys. We didn’t want you to arrive to an empty house.”

  “And we did try Purdy’s house,” Julius added, stepping up behind Marguerite to rub her shoulders soothingly. “We were hoping to resolve the matter that way, but there was no answer when we knocked. Unfortunately, we could not break in to see this cousin for ourselves. This neighborhood is surprisingly busy during the day. In fact, the Caprellis were out working on their front garden at the time and would have seen us. It’s part of the reason we came here to talk to them.”

  “And we learned quite enough from the Caprellis to justify further investigation,” Marguerite added firmly.

  “What was that?” Santo asked solemnly. He, Bricker, and Zani hadn’t had the chance to ask any of this when they’d arrived. They’d been asked by Garrett Mortimer, the head of the immortal Enforcers, to stop in Albany on their way back to Toronto from a job in New Brunswick. Once here, Marguerite and Julius had played them the 911 call and then herded them next door to meet Parker. And the aunt, Santo thought, an image of the petite woman popping up in his mind and making him smile.

  “The Caprellis are a nice retired couple who like to keep an eye on the neighborhood,” Marguerite explained. “They told us that the Peters are both doctors, and Parker is their only child. He attends a special school for gifted children, is very helpful and respectful, and not prone to playing pranks. We also learned that the Caprellis too had noticed some odd goings-on when it came to Mr. Purdy.”

  “What kind of odd goings-on?” Zani asked, sitting forward in his seat.

  “For one thing, they haven’t seen the gentleman for nearly a week, when they would normally see him out in his garden every morning and afternoon,” Marguerite said. “The Caprellis have also spotted other people entering the house at odd hours, mostly late at night, which is apparently unusual too. The couple were becoming concerned to the point that Mr. Caprelli was considering going over to check on the man today. Our arrival prevented that.”

  “Probably a good thing,” Santo rumbled, thinking that if Mr. Purdy’s visitor was actually a rogue immortal, he might be a danger to anyone who confronted him. Well, any mortal who confronted him anyway.

  “We thought so too,” Julius admitted quietly. “We decided that between the Caprellis’ own concerns for Mr. Purdy and their opinion that Parker wouldn’t make crank calls, it was enough to at least warrant looking into the situation. We called Mortimer, and he agreed.”

  “So you sent the Caprellis to Texas and moved in,” Bricker suggested with amusement.

  “Yes.” Marguerite smiled with satisfaction. “The Council bought them plane tickets and rented them a suite in a nice hotel near their daughter.”

  Bricker nodded but then raised an eyebrow and asked, “But why do we need a base? Why not merely raid the house and sort things out quickly?”

  Santo noted the way Marguerite glanced at him, and away, and felt his gaze narrow with suspicion.

  It was his uncle who answered that question. “Because Mortimer looked into Max Purdy. He felt sure the name sounded familiar. It didn’t take much searching for him to realize where it had come up. Purdy is a second cousin to Dr. Dressler.”

  Santo stiffened, his body going hot and then cold as a sudden rushing sound filled his ears. While he grappled with the cacophony of emotions swamping him, his uncle went on.

  “Mortimer wants to move very cautiously here. Dressler is a top priority target. He wants no mistakes that might allow the man to escape us again. He is rounding up as many men as he can spare to join us. In the meantime, he wants us to watch the house twenty-four hours a day and try to discern if the cousin is Dressler or not.”

  There was a moment of silence during which Santo was aware that everyone was looking his way. He knew they were awaiting a reaction. He could feel their tension and knew they were preparing themselves to stop him if he suddenly ran from the room. No doubt they expected him to try to charge straight to Purdy’s home and crash through the door to hunt Dressler. Santo almost would have expected that reaction himself and was quite sure that was exactly what he would have done before his trip to Punta Cana and the counseling he’d agreed to after. But now, as the first shock and emotional rush began to wane, he found himself oddly calm.

  Realizing they needed some response before they would relax, he gave an abrupt nod and muttered, “Makes sense.”

  He al
most smiled when everyone exhaled in audible relief, but the urge died quickly as he realized what their reactions revealed. His family had obviously been worrying about him. He disliked troubling others.

  “Well,” Bricker said, and then cleared his throat before asking, “Wouldn’t it have been easier to watch Purdy’s place from the kid’s house? We’d have an unimpeded view of the Purdy house from there.”

  “True,” Marguerite agreed. “But it would have meant controlling the Peters, and then Pet plus the maid nonstop, and though both doctors are away at the moment, the mother will be back this weekend, and we have no idea when the father will return. It could be tomorrow. Meanwhile, this investigation could take weeks. We decided there were too many opportunities for mistakes that way.”

  Bricker glanced from Santo to Zani and then back to the couple to point out, “You could have sent them away for a long period like you did—”

  “They are doctors, Bricker,” Marguerite reminded him sharply. “Mr. Peters is an oncologist and Mrs. Peters is a surgeon. They have patients and schedules and—” She shook her head. “It is one thing to send a nice retired couple on a vacation they wanted to go on anyway and quite another to disrupt the lives of two doctors who have important positions keeping mortals healthy and even alive.”

  Santo grunted in agreement and then straightened away from the counter and slipped out of the kitchen. He followed the hall to the front of the house and then ducked through the last door on the left. It led into a small sitting area. Santo crossed to a side window and tugged the drapes aside to peer out. This house sat farther forward on the street than the boy’s. He had an unhindered view of the front of the house belonging to Mr. Purdy. He stared briefly at the two-story clapboard building, noting that the drapes were all closed and the yard empty. He then turned away and abruptly paused when he saw that everyone had followed him.

  A wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, he nodded and then moved past them to make his way back down the hall to the rear of the house. He took the last door again, but now it was on his right, directly opposite the kitchen. This was a dining room, and Santo moved to the last side window to peer out again. It looked out over a stretch of grass, and then the garage next door blocked anything else from view.

  “There is a tree house at the back of this property,” Marguerite said as she joined him at the window.

  Santo glanced around at that soft announcement and then followed her pointing finger. A large oak tree stood at the back of the property and he could see a wooden structure perched in its branches.

  “It is a little old,” Marguerite continued. “But Julius checked it out and said it is still sturdy and allows a very clear view of the back of the Purdy house.”

  “A tree house?” Bricker asked with dismay, joining them at the window to look out with a scowl. “I’m guessing it’s not air-conditioned?”

  “No, and no electricity or furniture either,” Julius said with exasperation as he entered the room with Zanipolo on his heels. “It is a kid’s tree house, Justin, not a four-star hotel.”

  “I’ll watch from the tree house,” Santo said as Bricker opened his mouth on what would no doubt have been another complaint.

  “Did you read Petronella, Santo?” Marguerite asked suddenly.

  “The aunt?” he asked with surprise, his mouth turning down at the name. He hadn’t heard it in at least a century. It wasn’t used much anymore. He could understand why. He didn’t care for the name.

  “Yes, the aunt,” Marguerite said dryly. “She’s Parker’s mother’s twin sister. Did you read her?”

  “No,” he admitted, and was surprised himself that he hadn’t. He should have. Normally he would have, but Santo had found himself distracted just looking at the woman. She was a cute little bundle. An inch or two above five feet, willow thin, and with long black hair. The name Petronella hadn’t really suggested an Asian background. Neither did Parker Peters, for that matter.

  Thinking of the boy made him recall how protective Pet had been of him. Santo had noted the way she’d clutched at his shoulders, keeping him close. He’d got the distinct impression she’d wanted to push him behind her, as if she felt she needed to put herself between him and the world. Or Parker and them, Santo thought, not liking that idea. He worried it was himself who’d intimidated her. He knew most people found him alarming because of his size, and didn’t like the idea that she might fear him.

  A sigh from Marguerite drew his attention, and he raised his eyebrows in question.

  “You should try to read her the next time you meet,” was all his aunt said.

  “Was there something she knows that I should learn?”

  Marguerite hesitated and then simply said, “I did not see anything of use to the case, but you might learn something I missed. I think you should try to read her.”

  Santo nodded and determined to remember to read Petronella the next time they met. If there even was a next time.

  Parker was in the kitchen with his head in the refrigerator when Pet finally made her way there.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as she checked the back door to be sure it was locked. At least it wasn’t wide open, she thought with a shake of the head. She couldn’t believe Oksana would leave the front door wide open, but from what Parker had said, it was a common occurrence. She’d have to keep an eye on that when the woman was here.

  “I’m looking for something to eat.” Parker pulled his head out to glance around. “What are you doing?”

  “Just making sure everything’s locked up,” she muttered, checking the window over the sink.

  “Again?” Parker asked with disbelief. “You did that after Oksana and the neighbors left.”

  Pet ignored the comment and instead asked, “Why are you looking for something to eat? You can’t be hungry again. You scarfed down half a pizza at supper.”

  “That was hours ago,” he said on a moan.

  “It was only . . .” Pet cut herself off as she glanced at the clock over the window and realized it was nearly nine o’clock. She’d picked him up from the piano lessons he had after school at five o’clock and then had taken him out for dinner. She’d given him the choice of restaurant, and he of course had gone for pizza. They’d been done and on the way home by five thirty.

  “We finished dinner three and a half hours ago,” Parker pointed out. “I’m starved.”

  Recalled to the matter at hand, Pet suggested, “Then grab a banana or something and eat it while you get ready for bed.”

  “Bed?” he asked with dismay.

  “In five minutes it will be nine o’clock, Parker,” she said firmly. “Your mother said—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m going,” he grumbled, grabbing a banana from the bowl on the counter and pretty much stomping out of the room.

  Pet smiled faintly at his attitude as she checked the window by the kitchen table, but paused as she glanced out and noticed movement in the Caprellis’ backyard. It was Marguerite’s nephew, the big one, walking toward the back fence.

  Santo. She tested the name in her head. The man was huge, and gorgeous, with a voice so deep it actually gave her shivers, but Pet was distracted from her thoughts when Santo paused at the large oak tree at the very back of the yard and started to climb up the ladder to the old tree house. Her sister, Quinn, had once mentioned that the Caprellis had built it for their daughter decades ago, and Pet frowned slightly, wondering if it was safe for a big guy like him to climb up into, and why he’d want to. She watched him disappear into the wooden structure, and waited for him to come back out. Several minutes had passed when Parker yelled from upstairs.

  Pet turned away from the window and moved out into the hall, flicking off the kitchen light on the way. Her nephew was on the landing upstairs, hanging over the railing, looking for her. She turned off the hall light as she reached the bottom of the stairs and then started up, asking, “What?”

  “Can I get a glass of milk before I brush my teeth?” he requ
ested, meeting her at the top of the stairs.

  “Yeah. Drink it in the kitchen and put the glass in the dishwasher after, though,” she said as she moved past him to start checking the upstairs windows. The kid nodded and was gone like a shot, rushing down the stairs and up the hall to the kitchen.

  Pet considered telling him no running in the house, but then didn’t bother. He was young, full of energy, and it couldn’t hurt to use up some of that energy before he went to bed. She was checking the windows in his parents’ bedroom when he found her several moments later.

  “I came for my kiss good-night,” he announced, hurrying to her side.

  Pet eyed his blue pin-striped pajamas with amusement. He looked like a little adult, but his face was pink from scrubbing, and there was a smudge of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Bending to hug and kiss him, she asked, “Don’t you want me to tuck you in?”

  “I’m too old for that,” Parker informed her firmly as he gave her a squeeze and peck on the cheek. Pulling away then, he rushed for the door, calling, “Good night.”

  “Night.” Pet watched him go, thinking he was growing up so fast. But then time seemed to pass quickly. It seemed like the older she got, the faster time sped by. Shaking her head at that, Pet moved back to the window. It was locked. Every door and window in the house was. Now she peered out toward the tree house next door. It was still light out. The sun was hiding behind clouds as it made its way toward the horizon. Even so she had no trouble seeing the tree and the tree house in it. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tell if Santo was still inside or not, or what he was doing if he was still up there.

  Giving up on the mystery, Pet headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth and clean her face. After changing into her pajamas, she slipped downstairs to get a glass of water. Pet took it back to her room, collected her iPad from her bag, curled up in bed, turned out the light, and opened the iBook app to the novel she’d been reading.