Raven

Raven, Chapter Twelve

I was sitting in my office, one leg draped across the couch and sipping a coconut cappuccino when Ivan appeared at the door, his face sheepish.

"Get in here," I growled.

"Before you stake me, Raven, hear me out."

"We're waiting for Lou."

"Lou's not coming."

"The hell he's not!" I stood up, hands gripping my desk to keep from throwing something.

"Calm down, Raven."

I glared at him, and I could feel the magic building in my veins. He held his hands up in a gesture of submission.

"George came to me after Lou had terrorized him. I sent him home for the day."

"You what?"

"Lou punched him, Raven. What, you want a lawsuit?"

I was out of my chair so fast that even I couldn't see the motion. Ivan leapt back.

"Where is he?"

"Which one?"

"Lou."

Ivan's eyes darkened to inky pools. His brow deepened, and I could sense the murderous intent lying just below the surface.

"I don't know. George said he ran out after he punched him."

"Miss LaMort," a small, masculine voice said, and both of us whirled around, teeth bared. My sweet zombie lover, Sam, stood in the door.

"What is it, Sam?"

"Storm's heading this way. There's going to be several inches of snowfall overnight. They're telling people to head home as early as possible because of the roads."

"Sonofabitch!" I kicked the desk. No one else moved.

"Ivan, get George on the phone. I need to know what Lou's up to." Ivan's eyes slid to the side. "Don't fuck with me now, Ivan. We're going to have a very, very serious talk about privacy later, but for right now, I need to know what Lou's up to. He's avoiding me, and I'm pretty damn sure it has to do with his power of attorney."

"His what?"

Ordinarily, I would have felt like I'd wronged Ivan by getting involved in any legal matters, but I was too pissed at him to feel anything other than righteous indignation. "Don't—start—" I growled.

When his eyes met mine, he held them for a minute. Black, seething pools. Then, he dropped them and shrugged. "Whatever," he said, sounding exactly like a sulky teenager.

I reached for the phone and called the receptionist. "Make an announcement that everyone can go home. The office will reopen once the roads are safe, and everyone will be notified via email." 

Sam turned to leave. "Sam, I'd like you to stay with me."

His face visibly brightened. Normally, I'd avoid any kind of emotional bond—with my employees or anyone else, but right now, with my closest friends clearly fucking me over, I needed someone at my side I could trust. And Sam seemed to be as good a candidate as I'd find.

Ivan was whispering which was the wrong thing to do if he wanted me to keep my temper. My skin began to prickle, and I could feel my body lengthening, pulling the afternoon shadows into my form. "Speaker phone," was all I said, but when my vampish former BFF looked at me, he said nothing, simply pressed the speaker phone button, his eyes wide and empty as urns.

"Miss LaMort?"

"George, are you okay?"

I heard a little sniffle.

"George, where are you?"

"Parking lot."

"Our parking lot?"

"Yes. My eye's swelling, and I can't see so good. I don't think I can drive home."

"Ivan, you dick!"

Ivan at least had the decency to stare at the floor.

"George, if you tell me which floor you're on and what you're driving, I'll send Sam, one of the Zs you saved today. He'll come get you, and," I eyed Ivan, "we'll all take the limo.  We can talk on the way home. Okay?"

"Thank you, Miss LaMort," George said, then he gave us instructions of where to find him.

"One last thing, George, quit calling me Miss LaMort. It's Raven." I clicked off the phone.

"Sam, go get George. Ivan, grab what you need for the next couple days and meet me in the lobby in five. Don't," I warned, putting every bit of magical malice in my words, "make me come find you."

Ivan shrugged in his petulant way, pretending like it's of no consequence to him whatsoever, but he did as I asked.

A few minutes later, we headed down the elevator to the parking garage. As we crossed through the lot, we spotted a cherry red Corvette with the driver's side door open and George leaning over.

"Sam, what," I yelled out, and he straightened up, eyes wild and unfocused. Blood was smeared all over his mouth. He screamed, a guttural, animal sound, and spat at the ground. Ivan raced towards the car, so Sam ran away. When Ivan reached the car, he wailed. I didn't know how it happened or why, but the one thing I was sure of was George was dead. Ivan tore the door off the car. His screams echoed through the garage, as he reached inside and pulled George's limp body from the seat. He collapsed, his dead ex-lover in his arms, on the ground, and buried his face in George's chest.

George's throat had been torn open. The top of his chest was slashed. I quickly took stock of the situation. Sam had been feeding on George. Sam had been sent to find George. George had been waiting on us for no more than five minutes. Sam was going God knows where, but the minute Ivan set his lover and grief aside, Ivan would hunt him to the ends of the earth. And I still was no closer to finding Lou or figuring out what the fuck was going on.

I got on the phone and called for a cleanup crew. This was something that needed to stay in-house.

Ivan's eyes lifted. His hands were covered in George's blood. I could feel the rage coming off him, so I simply stood by, preparing myself for his next move. I expected screaming. I expected threats. I expected to be chilled to the bone, seeing the old Ivan return.

I didn't expect sniffing.

Ivan raised the bloody hand to his face and sniffed, at first delicately, then vigorously. He sniffed, then he licked. I felt nauseated.

Then, he dove, nose first into George's cooling body. He sniffed up and down, going after George's clothes, his skin, his hair. This was something I'd never expected. Voices called for my attention, and I held up my hand for the cleanup crew to stop. Something very odd was going on. After a few more seconds of investigation, Ivan gently laid the body on the ground. Shakily, he stood, his head hanging, then he lifted and met my eyes.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"Lou," he said, voice quiet with rage. "Lou did this."