His smooth, spare movements as he made his way between tables in the wake of the waitress caught Macey's attention. Something about him seemed familiar. She caught just a glimpse of his face, but it was obscured by a low-riding fedora, and he was angled away from her.
"About last night. . . how did you know? Did you see a. . . vampire?" Her voice dropped low.
"I wasn't certain until I saw the-one of the victims. "
Macey stilled. Her body went numb. Oh, God, yes, there had been victims. An ugly chill crawled up her spine and clamped around her insides. "Oh God," she whispered as her eyes grew wide. "Victims? How many? Do you know their names? Flora! I've got to get to the-to the-morgue or wherever-"
She bolted from her chair, drawing the attention of everyone in the diner. . . except, noticeably, the man who'd caught her attention earlier. His back to them, he continued to peruse his newspaper as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Macey. " Grady grabbed her arm as she spun blindly toward the door.
She paused, her blind fear and capriciousness ebbing into practicality. Dashing out of the diner in an area of the city she didn't know wasn't going to help answer her question. She'd get Grady to take her to Flora's, or to the morgue, or wherever. She drew in a deep breath and returned to the table.
"My best friend. " She sank into her seat, holding Grady's gaze desperately, as if he'd have the answer. "Flora. "
The other diners were still watching openly, as if ready to spring to her assistance if it was her companion who'd caused her to bolt. . . or, perhaps more likely, they were merely interested in the entertainment of a potential lovers' quarrel.
"There were three female victims. " His expression was serious and compassionate.
Her heart in her throat, Macey tried to keep her thoughts calm. "Did you see any of them? Were any of them identified? Flora McGillicut has bright red hair. We called her Carrot Head when we were younger. "
His concern eased. "I don't know their names, but none of the three were redheads," he told her, just as the waitress appeared with two bowls of soup and a basket of crusty bread.
Macey exhaled, weak with relief. Yet, as she looked down at the potato chowder, her appetite faded. Three victims from the vampire raid last night. Plus the attack on her. She could have been a fourth casualty. There could be even more. A chill snaked up her spine, and she looked at Grady with sudden realization. "Jennie Fallon. "
He was already three bites into his soup-which, judging by the amount of steam curling from the bowl, had to be scaldin
g-but he glanced up. His sharp nod was all the affirmation she needed.
Jennie Fallon. Three from last night. How many more victims? And what could be done to stop there from being more? If there really were vampires. . . and she had no choice but to accept there were. . . they couldn't be killed with Tommy guns or stopped by being put in jail. She suspected the likes of the undead didn't give two shingles about the laws of mortals. And would a jail cell even hold them? From what she'd read and experienced first-hand, the creatures were unnaturally fast and strong.
For the first time, Macey felt truly afraid. Gangsters were one thing-for unless you accidentally happened to be caught in a crossfire or tried to encroach on their territory by selling booze or setting up a gambling house, they tended to keep their violent tendencies among themselves and rival gangs.
But vampires. . . they were a different story. They fed on mortals. According to The Venators, they lived only to kill.
Macey glanced down and realized her soup was still sitting untouched in front of her. She might as well eat. It smelled good, and she was hungry-and besides, there wasn't anything she could do about the situation.
Or was there? A shiver zipped up her spine.
"What is it?" Grady asked, pausing with a crust of bread half-lowered into his chowder. "Are you cold?"
Macey hesitated only a minute before asking, "Have you heard of The Silver Chalice?"
His eyes narrowed as he shook his head. "What is it? Some sort of vampire artifact?"
"Shhh. " Macey glanced around the room. "It's a. . . a bar or a dance hall. I think," she added quickly. "I've never been there. " Literally, that was true: she'd been outside the establishment, but hadnZd along't set foot in it.
"I've never heard of any place called The Silver Chalice. But it would be easy to find out. Why?" His eyes narrowed, focusing on her.
"I thought. . . I thought I heard someone say something about The Silver Chalice last night. During the raid. "
"You are a terrible liar, Macey Denton," Grady said flatly. "But regardless, I can find out if there's such a place in the city. "
She looked at him primly. "Thank you. "
"And if you're not going to eat that, I will. " Grady had already finished his own soup and clearly had designs on hers.
"I'll eat it. "