who could explain every damn thing so I could just fix this?
I couldn’t say anything to him.
I’d asked Justin why in the hell I couldn’t just ask Damon, too.
Although I knew the answer.
Now, come on, Kit. I know you don’t think he’s making a power play or what the hell, but I can’t just pass gut instinct to my superiors. I need justifiable action and proof. If you just ask him, he’s got time to cover his trail. Proof, Kit. Give me proof…and if you fuck this up, you could be signing his death warrant .
Gee, way to ramp up the pressure.
So. First things first.
I had to start looking at all the various deaths, see if there were connections and look for more victims.
Because another thing Justin hadn’t outright said—the Assembly was worried there would be more deaths.
I felt sick.
And when this job was done, I was changing my fucking business. I wasn’t going to be Colbana Investigations anymore. I’d change my name to Colbana Taxidermy. Colbana Interior Designers . Anything. Shoot, I might even enroll in college courses and take some classes in accounting. Being an accountant would be less painful than this, had to be.
Colbana Accounting. At your service .
I could do that. I’d gotten away from the evil bitch that was my grandmother. I’d helped bring down the rat pack. I’d faced a son-of-a-bitch master vampire and lived to tell about it…barely. I could crunch numbers, right?
Anything would be better this.
How in the hell was I going to investigate Damon?
I adored him. Sometimes I thought I was in love with him, when I let myself think that way. It wasn’t often because I was terrified of what might happen if I let myself actually be happy.
Things like this would happen.
The ache in my chest just wouldn’t go away. It was still choking me four hours later as I finished going through the names and making a board of my own. I used string and pins. Sounded simple, but it worked for me. I liked looking for connections and sometimes there were connections where there didn’t seem to be any.
Right now…there wasn’t any connection to Damon.
His only connection to the Assembly was the fact that as Alpha, he was afforded the status as speaker, something he’d grudgingly acted on only twice, to my knowledge.
And I’d double-checked that, too, logging in using my Assembly code. As one of their registered investigators, I had clearance to access the public logs and I could even go a little deeper, but I didn’t need to in order to see that Damon had attended all of two meetings in the four months since he’d killed Annette. The first one had been four days after that.
I clicked on the file that would let me view the meeting.
As always, the sight of him made my heart lurch a little.
He was sitting in the front row where the speakers were allowed to sit and Chang stood at his back. I wasn’t surprised by Chang’s presence. Sometimes I wondered just what their connection was—they were friends, but it was more than that. I had a few casual friends, and I had a few closer friends. But I didn’t have a bond with any of them that was quite like the bond Damon shared with Chang.
They’d bleed for each other, I knew. They’d bleed. They’d burn. They’d hurt. I somehow suspected they’d done all of that already and were prepared to do more.
Friendships like that alternately confused me and filled me with a wistful sort of yearning. I didn’t let myself form those kinds of bonds, because I didn’t trust them. Even the friends I had, I knew I could take off running tomorrow and leave it all behind if I had to. All except Damon that is…he’d be harder to leave.
The kind of friendship he and Chang had? It wouldn’t allow for that, I didn’t think.
I envied it. But I didn’t understand it, either. Absently, I rubbed my finger over the scars on my wrists as I watched the vid play out. Once, Chang bent down to murmur in Damon’s ear and I had to wonder at what was said.
I couldn’t say anything to him.
I’d asked Justin why in the hell I couldn’t just ask Damon, too.
Although I knew the answer.
Now, come on, Kit. I know you don’t think he’s making a power play or what the hell, but I can’t just pass gut instinct to my superiors. I need justifiable action and proof. If you just ask him, he’s got time to cover his trail. Proof, Kit. Give me proof…and if you fuck this up, you could be signing his death warrant .
Gee, way to ramp up the pressure.
So. First things first.
I had to start looking at all the various deaths, see if there were connections and look for more victims.
Because another thing Justin hadn’t outright said—the Assembly was worried there would be more deaths.
I felt sick.
And when this job was done, I was changing my fucking business. I wasn’t going to be Colbana Investigations anymore. I’d change my name to Colbana Taxidermy. Colbana Interior Designers . Anything. Shoot, I might even enroll in college courses and take some classes in accounting. Being an accountant would be less painful than this, had to be.
Colbana Accounting. At your service .
I could do that. I’d gotten away from the evil bitch that was my grandmother. I’d helped bring down the rat pack. I’d faced a son-of-a-bitch master vampire and lived to tell about it…barely. I could crunch numbers, right?
Anything would be better this.
How in the hell was I going to investigate Damon?
I adored him. Sometimes I thought I was in love with him, when I let myself think that way. It wasn’t often because I was terrified of what might happen if I let myself actually be happy.
Things like this would happen.
The ache in my chest just wouldn’t go away. It was still choking me four hours later as I finished going through the names and making a board of my own. I used string and pins. Sounded simple, but it worked for me. I liked looking for connections and sometimes there were connections where there didn’t seem to be any.
Right now…there wasn’t any connection to Damon.
His only connection to the Assembly was the fact that as Alpha, he was afforded the status as speaker, something he’d grudgingly acted on only twice, to my knowledge.
And I’d double-checked that, too, logging in using my Assembly code. As one of their registered investigators, I had clearance to access the public logs and I could even go a little deeper, but I didn’t need to in order to see that Damon had attended all of two meetings in the four months since he’d killed Annette. The first one had been four days after that.
I clicked on the file that would let me view the meeting.
As always, the sight of him made my heart lurch a little.
He was sitting in the front row where the speakers were allowed to sit and Chang stood at his back. I wasn’t surprised by Chang’s presence. Sometimes I wondered just what their connection was—they were friends, but it was more than that. I had a few casual friends, and I had a few closer friends. But I didn’t have a bond with any of them that was quite like the bond Damon shared with Chang.
They’d bleed for each other, I knew. They’d bleed. They’d burn. They’d hurt. I somehow suspected they’d done all of that already and were prepared to do more.
Friendships like that alternately confused me and filled me with a wistful sort of yearning. I didn’t let myself form those kinds of bonds, because I didn’t trust them. Even the friends I had, I knew I could take off running tomorrow and leave it all behind if I had to. All except Damon that is…he’d be harder to leave.
The kind of friendship he and Chang had? It wouldn’t allow for that, I didn’t think.
I envied it. But I didn’t understand it, either. Absently, I rubbed my finger over the scars on my wrists as I watched the vid play out. Once, Chang bent down to murmur in Damon’s ear and I had to wonder at what was said.
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