“Going out?” Thomas asked.

Zane nodded. “Patrol.”

“Change of plans. Tell your patrol partner to find a replacement.”

“What for?”

“I need you for a little breaking and entering.”

Zane’s lips curled up in an almost-smile. “Sweet.”

26

Thomas looked over Zane’s shoulder, watching how he worked on the lock of the entrance door. The building was a run-down, two-story house on a busy street along one of the streetcar lines in the Outer Parkside neighborhood. The attorney’s name, Wilbur Wu, was stenciled in gold letters on the large window facing the street. Parts of the letters had stripped and faded, adding to the unappealing look of the law offices behind the uninviting facade. Somehow Thomas couldn’t imagine that this attorney attracted much walk-in business.

“Got it,” Zane murmured and pushed the door open, sliding inside the dark interior.

Thomas followed without a word and eased the door shut silently behind him. To the left was a staircase leading up to the second floor; ahead of him lay a dark corridor, and to the right was a door. He pointed to it.

“Let’s start here.”

They walked inside what turned out to be an office. Several filing cabinets lined one wall, a massive desk dominated the center of the room, and two rickety old chairs stood in front of it, presumably meant for clients, though Thomas couldn’t imagine what person in their right mind would want to sit down in a chair that looked like it would be crushed under the weight of a cat.

“The blinds,” Zane advised and walked to the window, lowering the shades, then adjusting them so they were fully closed.

Thomas pulled out a flashlight from his pocket and switched it on, pointing it at the filing cabinets. “Let’s get started.”

They rifled through drawer after drawer, starting with the one labeled ‘K’. Thomas shone his light at the labels of each file contained in the drawer, looking for K Industries.

“Nothing here,” he commented.

Zane grunted. “If he wanted to hide something, he wouldn’t be filing the documents under K.”

“Good point.” Thomas continued his search, painstakingly thumbing through file after file.

“Did Al have no information at all?” Zane asked out of the blue.

“If he did, he didn’t want to share. All he said was that he didn’t want to fight them. And Al is no coward.”

But knowing what he knew, Thomas couldn’t fault him for his caution. The dark power that those vampires possessed could frighten anybody. There was no defense against the mind control they could unleash on an unsuspecting vampire. Only somebody like Thomas, who possessed the same kind of dark power, would have a chance of fighting them. But first he had to find them.

Zane closed another drawer. “Nothing here either.”

Thomas let out a resigned breath. “Upstairs then. There must be more.”

Leaving the office behind, they walked up the creaking staircase. Thomas’s nostrils picked up a scent as they reached the landing.

“You smell that?”

“Not a good sign.”

Thomas followed the smell that led him to a door at the end of the hallway. The stench was strongest here. He braced himself for what he was about to see and pushed the door open.

A Chinese man in his fifties, presumably Wilbur Wu, lay on the floor, his body lifeless.

There was surprisingly little blood, despite the wounds on his face. His mouth had been cut from his face, exposing his white teeth. His tongue was missing.

Zane pointed to the injuries. “Looks like a warning sign.”

Thomas couldn’t agree more. “He knew something he wasn’t supposed to know.”

“And was about to talk about it,” Zane added. He pointed to the manila folder the dead man clutched in his hand.

Thomas bent down and took it from him. The label had been ripped off. He opened the file. It was empty. He had expected as much. Why kill Wu and leave evidence behind? “Too late.

Whatever was in there is gone.”

Thomas rose, bracing himself at a filing cabinet that was labeled ‘Banking’.

“He probably got greedy and blackmailed somebody. Looks like what they paid him in the first place wasn’t enough.”

“Greed is a terrible thing,” Thomas confirmed.

“Yep. Couldn’t take his bank account with him, could he?”

Suddenly something clicked in Thomas’s mind. “His bank account! That’s it!”

“What are you talking about?”