He withdrew a butcher knife to slice the sandwich in half. “I forget that you don’t freak out about stuff the way the rest of us do. But let me tell you, I’m plenty spazzed about it. I looked it up on the Internet, and those underground raves are nothing but sex, addiction, and perversion. A lot of people go into those things and never come back out.”
Raves?
Mort handed her the sandwich, and before he could step away, Gaby caught him by the upper arm.
Slowly, she reeled him down so that he bent at the waist, his nose almost touching hers. “Okay, Mort, one time, and one time only.”
His brows went up. “What are you talking about?”
“That’s how many times I’m going to ask. Just once. Got it?”
“Um . . . yeah.”
It burned her ass to admit Luther had left her in the dark. But if she wanted details, and she did, she had no choice. “I don’t know shit about a rave, or about what Luther and Ann have planned for tonight. But you’re damn well going to explain it all, every detail, and you’re not going to make me ask twice. Understood?”
Mort puckered. “Uh . . . Luther didn’t say anything to you?”
Her hard stare proved answer enough.
“Right.” Sighing, he pulled out a chair, sat down, and propped his head in his hands. “Ann told me, so I just assumed . . . ”
The mention of Ann kindled Gaby’s smoky temper. “What? That Luther and I share the same kind of relationship? Get real, Mort.”
Mort flopped back in his chair and gave in with enthusiasm. He seemed more than gleeful to share what he knew. “Ann said they’ve been keeping tabs on a few gang members with these weird tattoos. She said they have this vampire obsession that she’d always considered harmless, but now . . . ”
“What kind of tattoos?”
“Ann said that one of them has this huge, vicious bite mark tattooed on his shoulder, like maybe someone tried to take a chunk out of him. She said it looks totally real and is pretty sick. Another one is a set of perfect fang marks on a woman’s neck, with blood dripping all the way down over her chest.”
“What does that have to do with this underground party you mentioned?”
“It’s called a rave. According to Ann, all raves have two main ingredients—loud music and plenty of drugs. They keep breaking up the raves when they know about them because there’ve been so many rapes, and a lot of deaths.”
“Yeah, sounds like a party to me.” Gaby rolled her eyes. “So people go there and get murdered?”
“Not exactly. Someone takes a pill that someone else hands to them, and then later dies. Ann said it’s hard to trace back to the raves, but they know a lot of ecstasy gets passed around. Usually though, it’s that something was cut into the ecstasy and that’s what kills.”
Having only a rudimentary understanding of drugs, Gaby frowned. “Someone tampers with them?”
“The dealer, I guess.” Mort shrugged. “I’m not an expert, but I read that said ecstasy could be mixed with anything from caffeine to cocaine. Some sickos are passing off an ingredient in cough syrup as ecstasy. Sounds harmless, right? But mix that in with all the wild dancing and sweating, the alcohol and other drugs, and . . . ” He shrugged. “Kids die with heatstroke or something.”
Gaby crumbled a potato chip. “Fucking idiots, if you ask me.”
“I’ll say. But young people sometimes do really dumb things that they shouldn’t. It’s all part of growing up, I guess.”
For her, growing up had meant suffering the agonizing pain, struggling with supernatural powers unknown to the rest of society, and coming to grips with a devout calling against evil too wicked to continue to exist.
She hadn’t had time for drugs, much less stupid parties.
Gaby studied Mort. “Did you do that kind of shit when you were younger?”
“God, no.” Mort stared down at his hands. “I was never popular enough to be invited to parties. But even if I had been, no way would I have randomly taken drugs. I was always a coward, always afraid of getting caught or hurt.” His smile went crooked. “That’s partly why it’s so fun being around you. You’re the most fearless person I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, I dunno about that,” Gaby told him. “I’ve seen you be pretty damned fearless yourself.” Not that long ago, Mort had been brave enough to let her escape capture by the police, and for a time, she’d been left thinking he had died for his efforts.
Nothing had ever hurt so badly or cut so deeply as that.
Finding him alive had been the happiest moment she’d ever known.
“Maybe you inspire me,” he told her with a laugh. “But more likely it’s that I always figure you’ll find a way to keep me safe.”
“Don’t get mushy on me, Mort, or I won’t be able to eat.” She picked up her sandwich. “So what’s the connection between this rave and the tattooed idiots?”
“Word on the street is that they’re the ones setting it up.” He shrugged. “It’s been organized underground, off the radar, so police aren’t supposed to know about it. Ann had a snitch tell her about it in exchange for dropping a solicitation charge.”
Ann again. “Good old Ann keeps herself busy, doesn’t she?”
Mort missed the sarcasm. “She’s a really good cop. She said a lot of college kids, especially girls, were invited. I guess she and Luther hope to find a lead there. At the very least, they’ll be able to check on the group with the vampire fixation, right?”
“If Ann’s such a stellar cop, then why are you worried?”
“From what I could figure out, the music at raves is so loud you can’t talk. Laser and strobe lights, and even fake smoke, make it really hard to see. Everyone is drugging everyone else, so people are really messed up and not thinking straight. And . . . ” He blanched, looking away.
“Don’t hold back now, Mort.”
Color tinged his face. “Well, Ann said this particular group is known for throwing . . . orgies.”
“What’s an orgy?”
His eyes bulged and his color deepened to crimson. Lowering his voice, he said, “You know. Where everyone is . . . having sex with everyone else.”
“You’re shitting me.”
He shook his head. “Ann could get taken from Luther and by the time he found her again, God only knows what might’ve happened.”
“I could take a good guess.” Suffering her own turbulent thoughts, Gaby peeled the crust from a piece of bread. “I’d say you have reason to worry.”
Gaby could have stayed home with Luther today, but he’d had his hands full. Though he said that he’d planned to take some time off with her, he was instead organizing the newest task force against a monster so reprehensible that he made women faint and men nauseous.
Gaby knew that eventually she’d have to annihilate the fiend.
But Luther and Ann hoped to locate him at this stupid rave first. Fools.
The atmosphere Mort described would make it difficult for Luther to establish himself as an officer of the law. For that reason alone, he should have asked her along.
Ann had confided in Mort, but Luther had left her out in the cold.
Her stomach grumbled, as much from hunger as discontent, so she started to eat. Mort watched her with due caution and finally, after several minutes of silence, he cleared his throat.
Gaby glanced up at him. “Now what are you squirming about?”
He shifted again in his seat. “It makes me nervous when you’re so quiet.”
“Yeah?” She downed the rest of her cola and caught him in her most implacable stare. “Tell you what then. You can fill in the silence.”
“I don’t have anything else to talk about.”
“Sure you do.” She put her elbows on the table and leaned in closer. “You can start by telling me where this rave is, and what I have to do to get in.”
Chapter 10
Dressed in jeans and a faded T-shirt that read “I have a license to kill,” and his most worn leather jacket, Luther escorted Ann into the vacated department store. At the street level, the windows were boarded shut and the doors locked. But around back, through the alley entrance, rough-looking men gave directions to the basement.