Page 76 of Thicker than Blood

“I can’t find him. Something blocks his location from me.”

“Are you a witch?” I ask.

The woman shakes her head. “It’s complicated. I’m cursed. The drugs help keep the worst of it at bay.”

“Thank you for your help. If I can do anything for you, please ask. I am El?—”

“Elias Caswell,” she says, completing my sentence. “I know. I’m Zena.” She bites her bottom lip. “I could use money.”

“How much?”

“Whatever.”

I dig in my pocket, pull out the stack of cash in my money clip, and hand it to her. “There’s a few thousand there. Come back to me if you need more.”

Her scent softens instantly as her eyes well with tears. “If you need my help, you will have it.”

I nod, taking my leave with Jagger on my heels. We head in the direction Zena sent us. I’m intent on retrieving Ronald to bring him to Geordi, but my mind is stuck on Tristan.

“I knew it,” I mutter. “There’s something wrong with his energy. He was using me for his own traitorous purposes.”

“Won’t he be fun to kill then?”

“Very.”

We arrive on the darkened street of abandoned houses used as temporary sleeping quarters for squatters and the addicted, zeroing in on the house Zena described. A dim light emanates from the front, likely the living room.

In complete vampire stealth mode, Jagger and I approach the house, slipping in through the cracked-open front door. The floor is littered with trash, empty food containers, and a few dead rats. It reeks of piss and feces of both the human and animal variety.

“Ugh.” Jagger shudders.

I catch movement from a dark corner and focus on it, discovering the huddled figure of a mortal man.

“Ronald.”

In a flash, I’m on him, lifting him by his collar, only to find him weakened, pale, and near death with his throat torn out.

“Gods. What happened to you?”

He flinches, barely able to hold his head up. I lay him down on his back, kneeling over him as Jagger does the same opposite me.

“Who did this to you?”

Ronald opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a trickle of blood sliding from his lips down his chin.

“Zena said he was poisoned,” Jagger says. “Do you think Tristan did it?”

Ronald reacts, gripping my arm as best he can in his state. He grunts as his eyelids flutter and he sort of nods.

“Tristan did this to you?”

Ronald grunts again. I start to stand but he grabs at my shirt. “S-s-s…”

“You can’t speak like this.”

“We could turn him,” Jagger says. “Do you want us to save you?”

Ronald furrows his brow, clearly torn. “D-d-d…” He squeezes his eyes shut in clear frustration.