Guilty Pleasures - Laurell K. Hamilton [86]
She shook hands with both of us. Her hand was cool and dry. She left, slender shoulders very straight. The door closed firmly but quietly behind her. To look at her you would never know that she had been touched by extreme violence. Maybe that’s the way she wanted it. Who was I to argue?
Ronnie said, “Okay, now you fill me in. What have you found out?”
“How do you know I’ve found out anything?” I asked.
“Because you looked a little green around the gills when you came through the door.”
“Great. And I thought I was hiding it.”
She patted my arm. “Don’t worry. I just know you too well, that’s all.”
I nodded, taking the explanation for what it was, comforting crap. But I took it anyway. I told her about Theresa’s death. I told her everything, except the dreams with Jean-Claude in them. That was private.
She let out a low whistle. “Damn, you have been busy. Do you think a human death squad is doing it?”
“You mean HAV?”
She nodded.
I took a deep breath and let it out. “I don’t know. If it’s humans, I don’t have the faintest idea how they’re doing it. It would take superhuman strength to rip a head off.”
“A very strong human?” she asked.
The image of Winter’s bulging arms flashed into my mind. “Maybe, but that kind of strength . . .”
“Under pressure, little old grannies have lifted entire cars.”
She had a point. “How would you like to visit the Church of Eternal Life?” I asked.
“Thinking about joining up?”
I frowned at her.
She laughed. “Okay, okay, stop glowering at me. Why are we going?”
“Last night they raided the party with clubs. I’m not saying they meant to kill anyone, but when you start beating on people”—I shrugged—“accidents happen.”
“You think the Church is behind it?”
“Don’t know, but if they hate the freaks enough to storm their parties, maybe they hate them enough to kill them.”
“Most of the Church’s members are vampires,” she said.
“Exactly. Superhuman strength and the ability to get close to the victims.”
Ronnie smiled. “Not bad, Blake, not bad.”
I bowed my head modestly. “Now all we got to do is prove it.”
Her eyes were still shiny with humor when she said, “Unless of course they didn’t do it.”
“Oh, shut up. It’s a place to start.”
She spread her hands wide. “Hey, I’m not complaining. My father always told me, ‘Never criticize, unless you can do a better job.’ ”
“You don’t know what’s going on either, huh?” I asked.
Her face sobered. “Wish I did.”
So did I.
34
THE CHURCH OF Eternal Life, main building, is just off Page Avenue, far from the District. The Church doesn’t like to be associated with the riffraff. Vampire strip club, Circus of the Damned, tsk-tsk. How shocking. No, they think of themselves as mainstream undead.
The church itself is set in an expanse of naked ground. Small trees struggled to grow into big trees and shade the startling white of the church. It seemed to glow in the hot July sunshine, like a land-bound moon.
I pulled into the parking lot and parked on the shiny new black asphalt. Only the ground looked normal, bare reddish earth churned to mud. The grass had never had a chance.
“Pretty,” Ronnie said. She nodded in the building’s direction.
I shrugged. “If you say so. Frankly, I never get used to the generic effect.”
“Generic effect?” she asked.
“The stained glass is all abstract color. No scenes of Christ, no saints, no holy symbols. Clean and pure as a wedding gown fresh out of plastic.”
She got out of the car, sunglasses sliding into place. She stared at the church, arms crossed over her stomach. “It looks like they just unwrapped it and haven’t put the trimmings on yet.”
“Yeah, a church without God. What is wrong with this picture?”
She didn’t laugh. “Will anybody be up this time of day?”
“Oh, yes, they recruit during the day.”
“Recruit?”
“You know, go door to door, like the Mormons and the Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
She stared at me. “You’ve got to be kidding?”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
She shook her head. “Door-to-door vampires. How”—she wiggled her hands back and forth—“convenient.