“Right.” Olivia rolled her eyes.
She was about to make another remark, but when she stepped into the plush lobby with red walls and art deco paintings, she was rendered speechless by the stink of rotting flesh and dirt. The scent of Rogue One filled the lobby and wafted over her in unpleasant waves.
Doug stood still inside the entrance next to Olivia, but based on the tension in his body and the look on his face, he’d picked up the scent as well. She reached out with her sonar senses but didn’t pick up on any vampires in the immediate vicinity. However, the perfectly manicured man behind the counter was looking at them like they’d landed from Mars.
“May I help you?” He looked them up and down with blatant disgust.
“Actually,” Doug said almost inaudibly, “you can.”
Olivia stepped up to the desk with him and placed both gloved hands on the gleaming black countertop. She leaned close and held the tall, slim man’s gaze as she glamoured him.
“We need information about a guest,” she said evenly. The clerk nodded, slack-jawed and eyes vacant, but he remained silent. “Do you know who Michael Moriarty is?” He nodded again as drool dripped down his chin and his hands rested limply on the counter. “Good. Has he been staying here?”
“Yes,” he said on a sigh.
“Excellent.” Her voice remained soothing and clam. “What room is he in?”
“Mr. Moriarty has all of the rooms on the ninth floor.”
“Wonderful.” Olivia put her hand out. “I’d like a copy of the master keycard please.”
She maintained her focus as the clerk handed her the keycard from a drawer.
“When I walk away, you will remember none of this. Do you understand? It’s been quiet, and you saw no one come or go. Is that clear?”
He nodded like a bobblehead doll. Olivia released her hold on the weak-minded man, and they whisked to the first floor hallway, leaving the clerk alone and bewildered. They ducked around the corner, and Doug snagged her around the waist with one strong arm and placed a kiss on her head.
“You are something else, do you know that?”
“I have my moments,” she murmured. Olivia held up the keycard and flashed him her fangs. “Time to clean house.”
They flew up the stairwell, and the stench of the rogues grew more pungent. It was strongest at the ninth floor landing and stuck in Olivia’s throat.
“We do one room at a time,” she said, peering through the small window at the top of the door. “And we do it as quietly as possible.”
“Shit.” Doug ran a hand over his mouth. “I can’t imagine this is gonna be fuckin’ quiet. Vamps make a lot of damn noise when they get dusted.”
“Not much of a choice.” Olivia gripped the door handle and drew her gun. “Ready?”
Doug nodded and drew both guns, but he captured her gaze before she ducked through the door. “Be careful, Liv.”
“You too, detective.”
Olivia ran the key through the reader on the first door, swung the door open, and they whipped into the room with guns raised. Olivia had seen plenty of death and destruction in her day, but this place looked like something out of a horror film.
The next three rooms they checked were the same, and all told, there were over thirty dead humans, but no vampires. Doug said nothing, though she sensed his rage building, knowing it was only a matter of time before he completely lost it. His anger ticked up twice as much with the dead women.
With only one room left, no sign of the rogues, and sunrise thirty minutes away, Olivia was beginning to think they found a new place to nest and had abandoned this one. She and Doug stood outside the last room, and just before she opened it, a familiar scent filled her nostrils. She flicked her wide eyes to Doug and saw that he’d picked up on it as well.
Jerry.
“That little weasel,” Doug seethed.
He kicked the door open, and side by side, they stepped into the room with guns raised. “Wait,” Olivia shouted. “Don’t shoot.”
Jerry was chained to the bed and blindfolded. Thick ropes of silver were wrapped around his neck and gagged his mouth, while all four of his limbs were lashed to the bedposts.
Michael Moriarty stood calmly next to him with a gun pointed at his head.
“Took you long enough,” Moriarty snapped. He inched the gun closer to Jerry, who was passed out cold. While Olivia was pretty damn mad that her snitch had snitched on her, she didn’t want him to die. Moriarty flicked his beady eyes to Olivia. “Your friend here decided to warn The Maker and tell him about your little visit.”
“Who turned you, Michael?” Olivia tightened her grip on the gun. The faint scent of Rogue One filled the room like a phantom. “Tell us, or you’re going to end up like the rest of the rogues.”
“I gotta admit—I freaked the fuck out when I woke up at the medical examiner’s office, but once I got a taste of her and drank her sweet blood… everything felt better.”
“You killed Miranda?” Doug said through clenched teeth. “Too bad you and your maker missed our little party in the tunnels.”
“Yeah, he was pretty steamed that you two wiped out his brand-new coven.” He jutted his chin out. “I mean, there was a hell of a party around here, and you had to go and ruin it.”
“Moriarty,” Doug said tightly. “You and me go way back, and you know I’m not going to play these games. You’re gonna go down one way or the other. Human. Vampire. Cloud of dust. I don’t give a shit.”
“Paxton,” he spat. “Even as a vampire, you’re a pain in my ass. I know this will be a blow to your overblown ego, but this whole situation has nothing to do with you.” Moriarty smirked and shook his head as he leered at Olivia. “What the hell did you do to piss him off so bad, huh? You know, you’re the whole reason he came back to New York and started getting this coven together. Then, after you wiped ’em all out in the tunnels last night, I wanted to help him build it again. He was so steamed all he could think about was killing you and hitting you where it hurts, so he’s moved on to phase two. He left me here with Jerry so I could give you a message.”
“Me? Phase two?” Olivia’s brow furrowed as she struggled to understand what this could possibly have to do with her. “What are you talking about, Moriarty?”
A smile slithered across his face as he leered at her. “Been back to your club tonight, Olivia?”
Panic slammed into her as she realized what he meant. “Oh my God.”
Moriarty laughed. Olivia saw the microscopic movement of his finger tightening on the trigger, but before he could shoot, she flew across the room, tackling him against the wall. His gun fired and clattered to the floor.
Somewhere through the frenzy of rage, she could hear Doug’s voice calling her name as she sank her fangs into Moriarty’s neck and ripped his throat out. Blood sprayed over her as she tore his head from his body, turning him into a cloud of smoking ash.
Shaking with fury and drowning in panic, two strong hands gripped her arms and shook her, pulling her from the abyss. As her vision cleared, she found herself looking into a pair of painfully beautiful blue eyes—eyes that were laced with worry and a touch of fear.
“Liv?” He said her name gently as his fingers curled around her upper arms. “Liv, are you alright? Hey, can you hear me?”
She blinked as the fog lifted. Olivia allowed herself to lean against Doug’s body for support as she regained her bearings. It had been a long time since she lost it like that, and it was more unsettling than she remembered.
She glanced to the bed and saw the bullet had missed Jerry, and although Doug had released him from the silver, he was pretty banged up. The burns were healing; however, the little guy was pretty out of it.