Bloodshot by Cherie Priest

Author:Cherie Priest
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Private investigators, Vampires, Horror, Contemporary, Fiction, Urban Life, Fantasy, Thieves, General, Crime, Occult & Supernatural, Paranormal
ISBN: 9780345520609
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2011-01-25T03:43:48.160767+00:00

8

I took him back to my place because hell, where else was I going to take him? We were in the same boat, and I couldn’t honestly see him flipping out and calling the feds to report me. Besides, he’d talked like he knew I was a vampire back at the drag bar, and in the car we were both too damn tense and silent to converse, so we didn’t, and I needed to warm him up or lighten him up or … or something. Whatever it took to get him talking, now that I had my pronouns sorted out.

I’d sorted them thusly: When he was dressed as a man, talking like a man, and looking like a man, as far as I was concerned he was a man. In ladywear, with full lady persona, she was a woman. And if he/she had any issue with my designations, he/she could take it up with me later, when no one was trying to kill or capture us and stuff us into the trunk of a long black car.

So he stood in my kitchen, leaning over the bar, his neck glistening with sweat—and a dusting of leftover glitter. That stuff really is the gift that keeps on giving.

We were both sullen and uncertain of how to begin speaking, but he was downing a glass of scotch he’d found under the sink and I was wrestling with a bottle of nice red wine, on the very verge of smashing it against the counter just to get at the sweet, sweet goodness inside.

The cork sprang free just in time to stop me. I grabbed a goblet and filled it up—damn the torpedoes and all that.

When I had a full glass in hand, and he had a mostly empty one before him on the counter, I said, “So.”

And he said, “So,” right back.

I gave up and said, “This is ridiculous. You know I’m a vampire, I know you know I’m a vampire, and we both know your little sister was part of a government project. Feel free to stop me when and if I’m wrong.”

He didn’t stop me.

“All right, then,” I continued. I was not exactly reassured by the illusion of control but I’d accept it in lieu of actual control, so I bullied the conversation forward. “She died, years ago. The military told you … they told you what? That she’d killed herself? That she’d merely passed away as part of some test or experiment?”

“Something like that.”

“And you bought it?” I asked, incredulous only because half a glass of red was breaking down the barriers between my brain and my mouth. And let’s be honest, those barriers aren’t exactly reinforced concrete under the best of circumstances.

He didn’t quite sneer, but the look he made wasn’t pretty. “Of course I didn’t buy it. But congratulations, you tracked me down. And while you were at it, you led them right to me, didn’t you?”

“No!” I objected instantly. “I have no idea how they found their way

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