She squatted and placed her hands on the floor, hoping to capture some trace evidence of the rogue, but no luck. Olivia hoped there would be something to help her, but there was nothing here but stale blood and desperation—mostly her own.
“Damn it,” Olivia said on a sigh. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“Since there are two, we’ll cover a hell of a lot more ground if we split up, and I have something that should help us track down at least one.”
Pete pulled a small glass vial out of the pocket of his long coat and held it up for her to see. Olivia leaned closer with a puzzled look as she stared at what looked like blood.
“What is that?” she asked hesitantly.
“A gift from Millicent and Xavier.” Pete grinned and placed it in her hand.
“I guess Xavier still doesn’t sleep much.” Olivia cracked a smile. “What did he make for us?”
“He used the DNA sample from Ronald’s wounds to create a synthetic version of that rogue’s blood—we’re calling him Rogue One. Xavier thought that it might help us track him down. Apparently, he’s been working on something like this for a while and was psyched to have a chance to use it.”
“Him?” Olivia arched one eyebrow at her progeny. “You tasted it already?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He flashed his fangs and elbowed Shane, who clearly saw no humor in the situation. “Xavier should win the fuckin’ Nobel Prize for the shit he comes up with. Anyway, I’ve got his blood scent now and so does Shane. So, in theory, if the rogue is in the area, then we should be able to track him.” He narrowed his eyes, and they flickered red. “I can smell him in here, that’s for shit sure, but Xavier said this may only last a few hours, so we should get moving.”
“Synthetic blood as a tracking device? Cool.” Olivia smiled and shook her head as she uncapped the vial and raised it in a toast to Pete and Shane. “Here’s to Xavier, my brilliant friend,” she said throwing it back like a shot.
The scent of rotting flesh filled her head, and the taste of dirt coated her tongue. Olivia fought the urge to vomit and grabbed the broken metal stall for extra support. The metal bent beneath her grip like clay, and for a second she thought she was going to pass out.
Her green eyes fluttered open and filled with tears. “Holy shit,” she whispered. “That tasted like concentrated evil.”
“Yeah. Evil dipped in dog shit.” Pete grimaced and patted her on the shoulder. “I didn’t know if you’d have the same experience, so I figured I’d let you try it for yourself. Why do you think it tastes so bad?”
“I have no idea.” She wiped at her tearing eyes. “Jesus. Even the junkies I’ve fed on tasted better than this.” She grimaced and shivered. “Well, that’s not a scent or taste I will easily forget.”
Olivia pushed past Pete and Shane to the fresh air outside and leaned against the brick wall.
“We split up, but keep communication open.” She tugged her gloves on tighter and tried to focus on the scent of Rogue One that still lingered in the air.
“Since I have no ability to telepath with either of you, I will go hunting with one of you.”
“Not me,” Olivia said as she adjusted the gun in her holster. “I’ve been to this dance before, but Pete has never hunted rogues, so you go with him.”
Why do I feel like I just got stuck with the class dork? Pete’s teasing voice drifted into her head.
He may be a stiff, but he’s got centuries of experience, and I’ll feel better if you hunt with him. You’re going to be a father, remember?
“It’s quite rude to telepath when I am standing right here,” Shane said with mild irritation.
“Whatever.” Olivia rolled her eyes. “If you find the rogue, don’t kill it. Incapacitate it, and get it to the Presidium. We need it to confess or, at the very least, read its blood memories, so we can find out who turned it and get it to tell us where they’re holing up during the day.”
“Any ideas where to start?” Pete asked.
“Sewer and subway tunnels are most likely or any abandoned buildings in the area. I suggest we start with all of the above-ground options tonight while it’s dark. I’m going to swing by Jerry’s place and see if he’s heard anything.”
“Who is Jerry? And if he is an informant, why have I not heard of him before?” Shane asked coolly.
“He’s my friend,” Olivia said evenly. “Not an informant. He wouldn’t talk to you or Pete because he doesn’t know you.”
Shane narrowed his eyes but didn’t respond. It was only a half-truth. Jerry was her friend, but he was also her best informant. If anyone got wind of a rogue coven, it would be him.
“If we don’t find either of them tonight, then we meet at the club tomorrow night and then go deal with Augustus. You two take the East Village, and I’ll cover the West Village. Agreed?”
“Agreed.” Pete winked. “Boss lady.”
Olivia watched Pete and Shane launch into the sky as she prayed they would find the rogue before sun up. The last thing she wanted to do was go before Augustus empty-handed. It could mean the end of Maya or even the end of her entire coven.
Chapter 7
Doug had a headache to beat all fucking headaches, and if he didn’t get out of the damn nightclub in a few minutes, he was going to vomit all over these fishnet-and-eyeliner-wearing civilians. He’d been battling the loud music and flailing drunk dancers for the past hour and a half in order to question some of the people who had been there last night. The best lead came from the little waitress who looked even more out of place here than he did.
He went back to the end of the bar where Tom had been parked much of the time, interviewing Maya and Trixie. Tom was a good man and deep down, a good cop, but nothing fucked him up more than a pretty girl paying him some attention. Not that Doug was one to criticize weakness for a pretty lady, especially given his less than professional moment with Olivia in her office.
“Hey.” He nudged Tom and gave a tight smile to Maya, who was lingering nearby. “I spoke to Suzie, the waitress, and she said that Brittany was here last night with Michael Moriarty and his crew.”
“Michael Moriarty, as in the son of Tony Moriarty, owner of Moriarty Construction and our very own NYC crime family?” Tom took a sip of his water. “Guess we better pay a visit to little Michael.”
“Anything, but let’s get the hell out of here,” Doug shouted. “This music is giving me a massive migraine.”
“Thanks for your help, ladies.” Tom tossed a tip on the bar and waved to Maya, who gave him a flirty wink and blew him a kiss. Doug shook his head. Tom either didn’t see it or acted like he didn’t.
Doug pushed open the heavy wooden door and sucked in a breath of city air. He snagged the pack of gum from his pocket and made quick work of unwrapping a piece and popping it in his mouth. He still had the taste of Olivia on his tongue, and it was messing with his concentration.
“Not a fan of nightclubs, eh detective?” Damien asked with a barely hidden smile.
“Not my thing, I guess.” Doug waved Damien to the other side of the door, away from the people who were still waiting in line and hoping to get into the club. “Olivia and Suzie said that Michael Moriarty came here with a date but that she left before he did. Is that true?”
“Oh man.” Damien ran a large hand over his head, and if Doug didn’t know better, he thought the big guy was about to cry. Looked like Damien was a gentle giant. “Did something happen to her?”
“Yeah,” Tom replied wryly. “Raped, murdered, and dumped in a public restroom. So help us out. What did you see?”