“No. But we are very interested in what is killing them. ” Holden looked just as unmoved now as he had sitting in my apartment with the werewolves. I wondered if the only place he felt uneasy was walking with me to the Tribunal.
Keaty leaned back and laced his fingers together behind his head. He looked contemplatively at the ceiling, which had beautiful, thick crown molding and was a rich burgundy color in the center. I imagined he was thinking about blood when he looked at it.
“I think your best option would be to talk to one of them yourself. ”
I glared at him with no attempt whatsoever to mask my unhappiness. It was past ten now and I still hadn’t eaten. I was cranky and more than a little bloodthirsty. My willingness to scour downtown New York for vampire-thralled prostitutes was wearing thin. It would be so much easier if someone would tell me what I needed to know rather than making me feel like Gretel following a trail of crumbs.
Keaty had no patience for the antics of a twenty-two-year-old vampire hunter and fixed me with a hard stare. “When I say that, I don’t mean interviewing them as yourself, either. I mean if you want to find out what is happening to these girls, you’ll need to find out firsthand. ”
Holden’s eyebrows raised such a slight amount it would have been an indifferent change to anyone else. But I didn’t miss the tiny curve of a grin on his lips. He knew what Keaty meant by firsthand.
Unfortunately, so did I.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’d rather not get into the reasons behind why I own a pair of gold lamé hot pants.
I found this whole idea ridiculous, and the outfit, in my opinion, was too clichéd. I’d seen enough prostitutes, probably more than Keaty or Holden had, to know the hot pants and black halter were beyond unnecessary when it came to picking up a john in this day and age. The fact I was slight of build and a natural blonde meant I’d be an obvious target.
Maybe that’s what I wanted.
I walked down 59th Street, past the looks of disdain I got by Bloomingdale’s, and gathered more inquiring glances as I reached the area near the Queensboro Bridge. Across the river the lights of Long Island City glimmered more attractively than I thought the city itself was capable of. The East River swept by, and as I watched the water, I considered how many bodies I’d put there and how many had been dumped there by others. Bodies that didn’t all deserve to be dead.
A short distance from the bridge a group of girls huddled together, most wearing tights and long T-shirts. The evening still had a bite of winter to it, but only one of them was wearing a coat. All five girls were smoking, and a permanent cloud lingered over their heads. Three were Latina with hair styled in dramatic braided rows and perms. One was a black girl with her hair in a misguided weave that appeared unnatural and uncomfortable. The look on her face was somewhere between exhaustion and ennui, and her lip jutted out in a pout. She wasn’t inhaling any of the smoke from her Pal Mal. She just sucked it in and blew it back out, not taking any time to let it linger in her mouth. Her shirt had a silver tiger on it. The remaining prostitute was the skinniest white girl I’d ever seen. She had pale skin wrapped like cellophane around her jumble of elbows, knees and jutting bones. These girls had seen monsters that had nothing to do with my line of work. I felt guilty that some of the creatures of my world had crossed into theirs. They had it bad enough without vampires using them as a source of fast food.
As I approached I was thankful my internal temperature protected me from the bitter spring chill. The possibility of a late-spring snow was an unspoken promise on a night like this. I sidled up to them cautiously, my head bowed like a submissive puppy.
“Whatchuwant, you?” the largest of the girls asked. She was six inches taller than me and had to weigh over two hundred pounds. Her arms were crossed over her substantial chest, and she didn’t look like she wanted any part of whatever I was selling.
It hadn’t occurred to me on the walk here I would need any kind of a backstory. Foolishly, I had hoped the prostitutes would see me as one of their ranks and accept me into their questionable sisterhood. Then they would immediately start talking about the vampires who had taken others of their kind, giving me the answers I needed so I could call it a night. I could be such a dumb blonde sometimes.
“Uhh. ”
“Park Avenue is da other way, girly. You a long way from da escort services of da Upper East Side, ya know?” This was from the black girl as she exhaled her ornamental smoke in my face.
The skinny white girl laughed but said nothing. It was clear she was the minority here and she knew it.
The big girl took a hard look at me and snorted. “You think you can come here? You think your pretty blonde hair gonna make us say oh, Blondie, you can be one of us? Hmm? You lost on your way to a strip club? Whatdafuckyouwant. ”
What I wanted was to give her a good reason to shove her attitude right up her ass before I did it for her. These girls were treating me with the same disdain young vampires did upon hearing my name for the first time. It pissed me off, but in her case she had a reason to look down on me.
A line of tears shone in my eyes, turning them into wide, wet orbs of sorrow. “I was working a few blocks east. Last week this girl on my corner got into a car. She never came back and they found her in the park all ripped up. ” My voice trembled convincingly. The Oscar goes to…
They looked unmoved, but I saw the two leaner Latinas bobbing their heads in enthusiastic agreement.
“Yolanda, like what happened wit Cleo, yeah?” The black girl was silenced with a raised hand from the larger girl. She was clearly the leader.
Yolanda’s eyes narrowed, and she assessed me more seriously now. “Whatchyourname, girl?”
“Brigit. ” I used the name at the forefront of my mind after meeting with Mercedes.
“Brigit. Sounds like a fucking cheerleader. ”
The other girls laughed for a second before they settled into observant silence. In the darkness near the river, at least one vampire was watching the whole exchange. Holden’s presence covered me like a thin, protective blanket. Thinking of Holden brought another vampire to mind. I wondered what Sig would think of this if he knew it was a result of the assignment he’d given me. I thought he might get more than a little pleasure out of my current situation. Doubtless, Holden would let him know about tonight’s antics.
A car drove by and slowed, and I became the girls’ last concern. I hung back, and the five of them launched into a well-oiled chorus of, “Hey, baby! How you doin’, honey? You need a date? I’ll show you a real good time. ” The whole thing made me queasy.
I was expecting him to pick one of the thin, prettier Latina girls, but to my surprise large, bland-faced Yolanda was chosen by the john. I craned my neck to get a better view of him, but the guy looked like any other hard-up, middle-aged schmuck who could only get pussy on a street corner.