Page 8 of Kissed the Mark
“Leandra, honestly, I’m giving up on this.There’s a body count. I’m not equipped to do it with so littleinformation. All I have is experience. I’m not a freaking wizard.Go get a location spell for her or something.”
The vampire’s face fell.“That’s…disappointing.” She slouched once more onto my couch acrossfrom a Dalí print I’d bought at a flea market to make the placeless depressing.
“Life is disappointing sometimes,” Isnapped. Yuki was already rifling through my groceries and I had tosteal them back from her.
“I brought the upfront money you asked for,”Leandra said. “In case that motivates you at all.”
“Keep it.”
“I also read your mail. You’re past due onyour power bill.”
“Leandra!Oh my God! Get out!”
You had to give it to her—she was very goodat looking pitiful. Her shoulders slumped and she looked sadderthan ever. I shifted uncomfortably. “The truth is, she’s related tome, and I want to bring her in before someone else gets to her. Adescendant of my sister’s.”
“And you think she killed someone too?Seriously?” I asked. My frozen dinner clanged into the freezer. “Idon’t want to ‘dirty my hands’ with that, either.”
“I killed people too when I’d first turned.You don’t know any better. It’s just instinct at first. Surelyyou’re intimately familiar with that?”
“Sorry?”
“Everyone thinks the Unseelie are hot-headedtroublemakers and danger seekers. Wasn’t one of you inJackass?”
“Oh, please don’t bringthatup,” Imuttered. It was the shame of our people.
“Give me another chance,” she begged. “If wedon’t find anything in the next week, you can give it up forgood.”
“No refunds on the deposit, then,” Isaid.
“No refunds.”
It was too much money to pass up in exchangefor nothing. “Fine. I’ll do it,” I said.
Leandra’s posture suddenly fixed itself andshe smiled so devilishly I was sure I’d fallen for her act.
?
The next week passed in a blur. I had nointention of trying very hard to find Leandra’s vampire now that Ihad one grand lining my pockets. She took me out some nights onalleged “leads” that always got nowhere—a café on the outskirts oftown run by humans, a house where someone was said to be harboringoutcasts of our supernatural community—and I was less thanimpressed. With no one getting the money from the werewolf hit, Ipicked up some others, and even managed to find someone beforeAllie nabbed them (a gnome, hiding in a human’s garden, who likedto spy into people’s houses while they changed. Predictable).
I was losing patience with Leandra at analarming rate, too. Obviously this search meant something to her. Ihad never seen her with so much free time on her hands. Usually,she was wrapped up day and night in vampire paperwork, or whateverit was important vamps did. Apparently no one was asking her whereto plant their latest exotic tree outside the mall or to choosequantities for shipments of hemoglobin tabs.
On the other hand, I was feeling pretty goodabout the odds of having Leandra out of my hair forever. I hadscheduled a home sage uninvitation session for the end of the weekwith legendary local witch Beatrice Newell. Leandra wouldn’t evenbe able to enter my apartment soon and play with my treacherouscat. This investigation was truly going nowhere, and thus when weran out of things to do, she’d have no reason to bother me. She hadgiven me the surname she and her sister shared, Wilburn, but toldme it was likely the name had been married out of the family. Itwas weird to think of Leandra as someone who had had a last name.She was just Leandra, like Madonna or Beyoncé. I searchedeverywhere for mention of a Wilburn that fit the description, evenold newspapers in the library, and got nowhere. There was nolineage to follow.
On the seventh day after I promised I wouldhelp her look, Leandra took me back to the site of the werewolfmurder. “I could have sworn…” she was muttering to herself. Iwondered how much blood she actually needed before she’d go mad. Itseemed like that descent into insanity was imminent, except I’dseen her devour a giant serving of raw beef a week ago, an image mymind could not erase easily. “There’s footprints,” she said as Iwas planning how to tell her impossible-to-reach boss she’d losther mind.
“Are there actually?”
She glared at me. “You may have given up,you heartless fairy, but I’m not fabricating this.”
I passed a hand through the grass. Therewere indeed a series of humanoid footprints in the wet surface ofthe ground; whoever it was hadn’t been wearing shoes, and theprints ended in perfectly rounded little toes, as thoughdeliberately placed. It was a little ways away from the murdersite. Surely they would have looked around here?
“There wouldn’t be footprints here after aweek,” I said absently.
“I’m looking here because I think she’sstill around. It’s not a dead trail. Look.”
It had rained again recently. Whatever wewere tracking hadn’t bothered to cover its trail. The footprintsled on a wandering, suspiciously clear path through the trees. “Oh,wow,” I said. “This is almost too easy.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Leandra said.“By the way, if I stumble over her first, I’m keeping the rest ofthe money.”
