Blood Dolls

  BLOOD DOLLS

  BLOOD VICE BOOK FOUR

  Angela Roquet

  BLOOD DOLLS

  Copyright © 2018 by Angela Roquet

  All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the publisher. Although every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher and author assume no responsibility for errors or omissions. Neither is any liability assumed for damages resulting from the use of the information contained herein.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  www.angelaroquet.com

  Cover Art by Rebecca Frank

  Edited by Chelle Olson of Literally Addicted to Detail

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Blood Dolls (Blood Vice, #4)

  BLOOD DOLLS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  THICKER THAN BLOOD

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Sign up for Angela Roquet's Mailing List

  Also By Angela Roquet

  For Paul and Xavier,

  who make my world go round.

  by Angela Roquet

  Blood Vice

  Blood Vice

  Blood and Thunder

  Blood in the Water

  Blood Dolls

  Thicker Than Blood

  Blood, Sweat, and Tears (September 2018)

  Lana Harvey, Reapers Inc.

  Graveyard Shift (Read for FREE)

  Pocket Full of Posies

  For the Birds

  Psychopomp

  Death Wish

  Ghost Market

  Hellfire and Brimstone

  Limbo City Lights (short story collection)

  The Illustrated Guide to Limbo City

  Spero Heights

  Blood Moon

  Death at First Sight

  The Midnight District

  other titles

  Crazy Ex-Ghoulfriend

  Backwoods Armageddon

  BLOOD DOLLS

  Chapter One

  Bleeders was hopping Sunday night. I tried not to be too obvious as I adjusted the black wig on my head and leaned into Collins, pretending to feed from his neck as a bouncer paused at the parted curtains before our table.

  Collins tensed, fingers squeezing into his thighs. The scent of salty sweat mingled with his cologne, and a vein above his collarbone throbbed. I couldn’t tell anymore if it was out of fear or anticipation. He was extra skittish since the coffin-lock trial incident at the bat cave, the one and only time I’d bitten him.

  “It’s clear,” he hissed under his breath, urging me away. The peach fuzz along his neck stood at attention, and goosebumps spread down his arms.

  “You could have sat this one out.” I crossed my legs, causing the latex pants I wore to squeak in protest. The techno-goth disguise was extreme compared to my usual wardrobe, but at Bleeders, I fit right in. Collins’ dress slacks and green, button-down shirt had drawn more attention than my casual Elvira getup.

  “I don’t think so.” Collins snorted and lifted an eyebrow at me. “When I sit out on your little side missions, you’re not very forthcoming with the findings.”

  I diverted my gaze back to the part in the curtains. He was right. I hadn’t spilled my guts about everything, but it was for his own good. At least, that’s what I tried to convince myself.

  Collins still thought my sire was the late Pablo Zajalvo. It was a convenient cover that Roman had put together. Though if anyone up top found out, the broody half-sired stood more to lose than just his career.

  Roman’s potential scion was his ex and the new captain of the St. Louis division of Blood Vice, Vanessa Sorano. The betrayal could very well end that arrangement, and then the fifty years Vanessa’s blood had kept at bay would creep in on Roman in a matter of weeks.

  I couldn’t let that happen.

  I wanted to be honest with Collins, but the risk was too great. My anxiety was not soothed in the least by the lifeblood bond Roman and I shared. We’d been working together for a month now, and just keeping my hands off him was torture. We hadn’t crossed any definite lines—yet. We weren’t sharing blood or even a bed, but after our tryst in the art gallery at the queen’s All Hallows’ Eve ball...resisting him had become damn near impossible.

  It wasn’t love. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. Vampire biology was a new concept to me, but I was keenly aware of my weakness to it, and I refused to be led around by my pheromones. Roman seemed to struggle with the same problem in my presence, which only added fuel to my desire. Lust was a blade, double-edged with heaven and hell.

  If I thought about it too long, I lost sight of everything else. So I tried to push Roman out of my mind as I waited for Mandy to return with the last lead we had on Scarlett—the side job Collins was none too thrilled to be participating in.

  The current case we were officially assigned to was Ursula, the estranged duchess suspected of murdering her sire, Morgan, the former princess of House Lilith. The duke wanted us to bring her in. There was an official trial in the works, or so I’d heard.

  Ursula was also Scarlett’s and Raphael’s sire. I imagined she was every bit as evil as they were, though her case file seemed to suggest she was simply negligent.

  The runaway duchess had been ordered to create a scion rather than requesting to make one herself. She’d been romantically involved with Morgan and in no big hurry, but the royal family was ready to grow. She’d relented and created two scions instead, hoping they would entertain each other so she could maintain her focus on the princess.

  Scarlett and Raphael had entertained each other, all right. Their notoriety was known by everyone I’d interviewed since joining Blood Vice. The royal family had not been pleased by the duo’s antics. So the queen had ordered Morgan to create a second scion.

  Jealousy. That was the only motive I could find for Ursula to murder her sire. She’d disappeared immediately after, and Scarlett and Raphael had been exiled for their own crimes. They were wanted now too, but that case had been assigned to someone else—someone who was in no big hurry to face off with the psychotic baroness and her loyal lapdog brother, the baron, who everyone seemed to believe was still alive.

  So here I was, nosing around in a vampire club where I’d made the blacklist. Hence the wig.

  The club lights zipped overhead like a caffeinated constellation. The rainbow of colors faded at the top edge of the black curtains enclosing the booth, and I could feel the bass of the dance music vibrating through the bench Collins and I sat on.

  “Right here,” Mandy’s voice trickled through the cacophony of laughter and electronic beats.

  The curtains parted, and Lydia appeared inside the small booth. She’d updated her club attire by a few decades. Tonight, she was dressed in a black poodle skirt featuring a flamingo. Her blouse and the bandana she wore like a headband matched the hot pink bird. She’d dyed her hair since I’d last seen her, too. The once gr
ay curls were now jet-black. If I hadn’t been expecting her, I wouldn’t have recognized her at all. As it was, she saw right through my disguise.

  “Well, well.” She propped a fist on her hip, and her eyes narrowed. “I certainly didn’t expect to see you again.”

  Mandy stepped into the booth behind Lydia, blocking the exit from prying eyes. She wore a pair of distressed jeans and high-top sneakers, but her fishnet top and fauxhawk made up for the normalcy. The white bracelet on her wrist, denoting her as a spoken-for harem member, would keep most from paying too much attention.

  Collins wore a similar white band, but Lydia sported yellow—the color for amateur donors. She’d been wearing a red one the night I met her, to indicate her professional status. She caught me staring and covered her wrist, cheeks flushing.

  “You brought your harem,” she said. “What do you need me for?”

  “I’m not here to feed.” I folded my hands on top of the table centered inside the booth. “I have a few questions for you, regarding Patrick Nadler.”

  “Never heard of him.” Lydia gave me a tight, unfriendly smile.

  “Really? Because he bartended here for several months.”

  “Bleeders has a lot of bartenders and a high turnover rate. You don’t really expect me to remember them all by name, do you?” She scoffed and turned as if to leave, but Mandy blocked her path.

  “Of course not.” I did my best to maintain a patient tone. “That’s why I brought a picture.” I laid it on the table and slid it across to her.

  The mugshot was one I’d found in the human database—or rather, one that Collins’ former partner-slash-brother-in-law had dug up for us since Vanessa was hawk-eying my office research. Before being adopted by Scarlett and discovering that he had a knack for murdering vampires, Patrick’s vices had included hotwiring cars and robbing ATMs.

  Apparently, Bleeders wasn’t picky about their staff. Of course, they also weren’t shy about the fact that they had a camera in every corner and a vampire owner who was big and bad enough that even Blood Vice hesitated to cross him. Who needs background checks when you’ve got Big Brother breathing down your neck?

  “Ricky.” Lydia picked up the picture and shook her head. “I wondered what had happened to that creep.”

  I watched her closely as I asked my next question. “Were you aware he was a member of Scarlett Lilosa’s harem?”

  Lydia snorted. “In his dreams.”

  “I saw her mark on him myself.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Ever since being exiled, the baroness fancies herself queen of the miscreants. She’ll bite anyone who lets her—and plenty who don’t. That doesn’t make them harem material.”

  “Has she bitten you?”

  “Why?” She raised an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

  “I’m asking in a professional capacity, as a Blood Vice agent.”

  “Mmmhmm.” Lydia looked me up and down. “You look professional, all right.” The jab wasn’t wholly unexpected, considering her modest and dated costume selection.

  “I’m not exactly welcome here,” I said. “This was necessary to get past the doorman undetected.”

  “Undetected? I wouldn’t be so sure about that, doll.” She folded her arms and glanced up at the mirror spanning the wall above the booth. My eyes followed hers.

  Two beefy security guards were making their way across the dance floor. There were feeding booths to either side of ours, but I had a bad feeling Lydia was right. She gave me a sour look and tucked her hand with the yellow bracelet farther under her opposite arm.

  “Do you know where Nadler lived?” I asked, desperate for any scrap of information. If I were going to be thrown out on my ass, I wanted something to show for it.

  Lydia’s nose crinkled. “How the hell should I know?”

  “Do you know if he had a roommate? Anyone here he was close to?”

  “Persistent thing, aren’t you?” She huffed and unfolded her arms to grab her hips with both hands. “Look, I didn’t like the guy. I don’t know anything about him. And he’s dead now, so what’s it matter?”

  “How do you know he’s dead?” My adrenaline spiked, and I stood up from the table.

  “You said so. Right? Isn’t that why you’re here?” Lydia bit her bottom lip. The skin between her eyebrows puckered, and her pupils dilated. I’d caught her, but in what, I wasn’t sure.

  “I’m willing to pay for the information,” I said.

  “Oh?” She blinked furiously. “Like you paid for snacking on me?”

  My cheeks warmed. “It was my first time. No one told me what to tip. I’d be happy to give you more now.” I reached into the pocket of my cropped leather jacket, fishing around for the few hundred-dollar bills I’d tucked away for emergencies.

  “You don’t tip, you dolt,” Lydia snapped. “It’s insulting. This isn’t a strip club or brothel. You do the respectful thing and buy donors overpriced drinks. And you don’t drain them to the point of losing consciousness,” she added sharply.

  “Time to go. Wrap it up.” Mandy shot a quick glance over her shoulder through the thin part in the curtains. She checked the mirror overhead as she dug a pair of smoke bombs and a lighter out of her pocket.

  Lydia sighed. “Ricky had a girlfriend who dropped in on slow nights. Nicki something or another. She worked at a pawn shop in Fenton, was always wearing a blue shirt with the company’s star logo on the chest, you know?” Lydia released one hip and tapped her fingers above her breast.

  Nicki. I wondered if she was the crazy chic who had broken into my home to avenge Nadler after I’d offed him at Nigel’s party. I hadn’t been given access to the case file, and I had no idea what had happened to her after Kai and Vanessa removed her unconscious body from my house. Still, it was a breadcrumb I could work with.

  I snatched Lydia’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  She frowned and inched back a step. “If you’re going to make a scene, mind if I get out of the way first? Your last visit cost me my good standing.” She withdrew her hand and held it up for me to see her yellow bracelet.

  “Of course.” I nodded for Mandy to let her pass, but Lydia hesitated.

  “You should know...” Her gaze met mine again. “You’re not the only one looking for Scarlett.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Yeah. Blood Vice needed a set of fresh eyes on the case.” It wasn’t an outright lie.

  Lydia shook her head. “I don’t mean Blood Vice.” Her answer caught me off guard, but she disappeared through the curtains before I could ask her to explain.

  Collins stood and stared up at the mirror above us. The security guards were almost to our booth. One glanced up and locked eyes with me.

  “What now?” Collins grumbled. Mandy chucked the smoke bombs over the top of the booth before he finished asking the question. Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “We go to plan B,” she said, grabbing his hand.

  A chorus of screams sliced through the music, and the crowd reflected in the mirror faded beneath a growing plume of rainbow-colored smoke. It was festive enough to confuse the dancers—but the security guards were not so easily deterred.

  I blinked, and my blood vision pulsed to life, outlining the bodies hidden beneath the smog. The inherited trick was becoming easier to activate on demand, but a little danger always helped jumpstart things. With the Eye of Blood, I could make out the larger of the two guards, just a few feet beyond our booth.

  It was now or never.

  “Go.” I nudged Mandy and Collins through the curtains. “To the back,” I rasped under my breath, hoping at least Mandy understood me with her enhanced, wolfy hearing.

  If guards had been sent to collect us, I had no doubt they’d tightened security at the front of the club. We’d have to try one of the back doors that led into the alley or the adjoining warehouses, including the furniture place where I’d first scuffled with Nadler before either of us realized we were who the other was looking for.

  My motives
had been clear. I was trying to stop a serial killer and get my foot in the door with Blood Vice. I still wasn’t quite sure why Nadler and Nicki—or whoever she was—had been killing random vamplings. I’d pressed Roman for details on the case, but if he knew anything more than I did, he wasn’t sharing.

  I wanted to blame it all on Scarlett...but the puzzle pieces just weren’t lining up. If the baroness had sent her minions after me, their kills would have been more specific. They would have only targeted blond, female vamplings.

  I couldn’t help but wonder if Raphael or his death was somehow linked to the murders. He was Scarlett’s partner in crime. Whatever pies she’d had her fingers in, I was sure he’d had a slice of them, too. Exiled or not, his death would beg some sliver of vengeance. Of course, I couldn’t work that angle—neither on nor off the record.

  Raphael’s death was merely a whisper of a rumor. The few of us who could put that rumor to rest couldn’t do so without incriminating ourselves. So we remained quiet, silently pleading the fifth—not that the Vampiric High Council acknowledged that right or any other of human origin—and we let the vamp community continue fearing a foe who had long since been extinguished.

  Mandy and Collins reached the back hallway of the club. The smoke hadn’t made it this far. We spread out, patting our hands along the curtains draped over the walls, searching for the exit. In a regular club open to the general public, this would have been considered a serious fire code violation. At least they had a sprinkler system. And the sprinkler heads were often located near exits...

  “There!” I pointed at one sticking out of the ceiling.

  “What the hell good is that going to do?” Mandy barked at me as a security guard entered the hallway behind us.

  “Hey!” he shouted over his shoulder, summoning backup.

  “Shit!” Mandy grabbed Collins’ shoulder. “Gimme a boost.”

  Before I could stop her, she produced her lighter and flicked it open as Collins hefted her onto his back. The flame grazed the sprinkler, and we were suddenly in a downpour.

  Other than looking extra pissed, the guard was unfazed.

  “Told you!” Mandy shouted, raking a hand through her droopy hair. She slid off Collins’ shoulders and glared at me. I glared right back and ripped the curtain away from the wall.