Poltergeist

"Did you find his wallet?”

"We did.”

"Did it seem to be intact? Money and credit cards still in it?”

"Yes.”

"Car keys?”

"Mr. Lupoldi did not own or drive a car.”

"Bicycle keys? I know he had one of those U-locks with the cylinder keys. Did you find a key like that?”

"No keys.”

"Not even the apartment key?”

"No. I searched for them myself. Now that we're done with the scene, the landlord will have to use his master copy to lock up, since no apartment keys have been recovered.”

"You're releasing the scene?”

"We've taken all we can from it. The lab continues to analyze samples and fingerprints and to compare against any new ones I can supply.”

I had a feeling he'd be supplying more samples soon, but relying on few. A lot of the tests and analyses take a while, so most forensic evidence is more important at trial than during the investigation. Solis would proceed with the more readily available evidence of people and their tendency to talk. The case was already a week old and unsolved, so Solis would be under pressure soon to show some progress. I shouldn't have been surprised that he was picking my brain or willing to give up what might seem like worthless information in exchange.

Whoever had those keys was likely to be Mark's killer. Unless Celia had them. I'd have to find out if the poltergeist had been in Mark's apartment when he died.

I wished Solis luck and assured him I wouldn't mention the missing keys to anyone—by which I meant anyone who might be co

It wasn't quite dark yet. The overcast sky made it seem much later, but it would do me no good to go looking for Carlos until the sun was fully set.

I burned the last half hour of sunlight typing up a report for Tuck-man. I pla

When I was done, I drove up to Adult Fantasies—the twenty-four-hour "home of live girls" and a half acre of exotic fetish wear and sex toys—to ferret out Carlos, who besides being Cameron's mentor also owned the place. If I appeared in person, he'd find it much harder to refuse my request. I hoped.

For the most part, I despise and avoid vampires—when I'm not revolted and in terror of them. They rarely needed my help as much as they wanted to command my obedience, and I didn't go in for that. I'd been pulled into their byzantine politics and personal wars once and had no desire to be pulled in again. They were unpleasant, manipulative, arrogant, and selfish, and their presence often made me physically ill, even when on their best behavior. I also owed part of my strange, irremediable co

The employees in the shop had changed since my last visit. The current crop had a kind of Stepford generic-ness to them—as if Carlos had decided it was better to hire people easy to forget to work in a place most people tried not to remember. A man wearing a T-shirt with the words "I wasn't there and you can't prove it" on it told me Carlos was out and hadn't been coming in much lately. I guessed the new employees were also more trustworthy than the previous crop.

After I'd fenced with him for a while and given him my card, the T-shirt man made a phone call. His eyebrows went up as he listened; then he hung up and looked me over. Curiosity gleamed on his face like sweat.

"He says to meet him at Green Lake on the south side of the community center. He said he'll smell you coming.”

For a moment, I felt chilled. Carlos scared me more than most— but not all—of his kind. A powerful bloodsucker, he was also a necromancer. He could see, touch, and taste the ghosts and Grey bits that clung to me and was an intimate of death and dead things. I'd almost gotten him killed for good and all once and I still wasn't sure how he felt about that, no matter how many favors might be owed otherwise. I supposed I was going to find out.

I drove north to the gemlike park around Green Lake, slowed by the remaining tail of rush-hour traffic on Aurora.

The last time I'd seen him, he'd still been a cinder creature with charred skin cracking on burned bones and clothed in the reek of destruction. I wasn't sure what to expect in either looks or attitude since then.

I was glad there were people on the streets. Joggers wearing headlights and reflective vests ran on the path around the lake and neighborhood people came and went through the doors of the restaurants and bars across the street. I hoped I had nothing to fear, but even a busy, human-rich environment couldn't protect me from Carlos if he chose to kill me.

I felt him long before I laid eyes on him. A pitching, queasy sensation in my guts and a shiver of icicles up my spine alerted me. Light from the windows of the community center picked out his silhouette but didn't seem to penetrate the dark clot of bleeding Grey that hunched around him. I could see his eyes spark as they met mine, but he stayed still and let me walk almost to the water to meet him.

Up close, I could see that his skin was patterned with scars in coiling loops and baroque twists. He'd regained his intimidating height and breadth, but his black beard and hair were thin. He held himself stiffer than I remembered, but he still had the posture of a poised tiger. His eyes remained black pits that burned with intimations of Hell, even more horrible among the scars.

He gave me half a nod before I could speak. "Blaine. Let's walk," he added, tipping his head toward the water. "I imagine your business with me won't bear the scrutiny of daylighters.”

It seemed Carlos no longer considered me one of the daylight people. I knew I had moved a bit sideways of normal, but I wasn't one of his own. He wasn't causing me the sickening discomfort I would have expected if he were angry, but Carlos was tricky and mercurial in his temper, so I went beside him warily.

We turned together and began walking along the lakeside path.

"What is it you want?”

"A young man was killed last week," I started. He cast me a sideways glance. "It seemed to be an accident, but it's mysterious and the cops are treating it as a murder. I. . have an interest in the case and I need to know if a ghost was on the scene when it happened.”

"Can you not tell?”

"No. I don't have that sort of skill. And it's not a normal type of ghost.”

Carlos had developed a small uneve

"Is this some kind of ritual? That I have to be explicit with you or you won't help me?”

His mouth quirked in cruel amusement, which sent my stomach on a crash dive. "It is. So be explicit.”

I swallowed before replying. "You owe me a favor for checking on Cameron's. . mistake. I need to know if the ghost in question was there and what it did. So I am asking you to come and see the scene and tell me what you can.”

"Where?”

"It's an apartment in Fremont. The cops are done with it and the key is missing, so I think we should have no problem getting in, as long as we're discreet.”

"Ah. 'We. You still accept equal risk. That's good. You do this for yourself, none other?”

"If you mean is someone else controlling me, no. This is strictly my side of the daylight.”

"Such as it is. Your daylight is darker than most.”

"Yes." I made myself level my gaze and look without flinching into his hell-depth eyes. "Are you going to help me out or not?”

He chuckled a small earthquake through my bones. "When?”

"Tonight, I'd hoped.”

His eyebrows quirked. "Tomorrow. I've already given you too much of my time tonight.”

"Then why did you?" I blurted.

He cupped one giant hand over my left shoulder and drew something off me, flicking it away like lint—perhaps some remnant of Celia. I shuddered and felt a hot twisting thrum in my chest and down my arms. He crossed his own arms over his chest and looked down at me. "You continue to interest me, Blaine. And as you say, I owe you. I'll go with you tomorrow, though I don't guarantee that what I can tell you will be to your liking.”