He'd woken up a short while ago and all of his confusion--all of his fear--was gone. Now he belonged to the powerful inpidual seated beside him, the vampire who had made him into something more than human tonight, as well. Skeeter's loyalty was ensured by blood, his very life tied to that of his Master.
"You will report to me with any and all information you can gather," said the voice that commanded him in all things now.
"Yes, Master," Skeeter replied, and when he was given a nod to go, he climbed out of the Hummer and waited as it eased away from the side of the road and departed.
When it was gone, Skeeter walked across Pete's parking lot to the lone snowmachine that still sat parked outside. He hopped on and turned the key in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried again with the same result, then swore roundly when he realized he'd forgotten to buy gas for the damned thing last night.
"Morning," a familiar voice greeted him as chain-encased snow tires crunched in the frozen road.
"Need a hand?"
Skeeter shook his head without looking at Zach Tucker. Of all the shitty luck, he had to run into Harmony's sole cop today.
Tucker didn't accept his refusal. The Blazer rolled up next to Skeeter's sled and idled while the trooper got out and went around back to grab a red can of gasoline out of the back of the truck.
"Late night, huh?" he asked as he walked over and unscrewed the cap on the Yamaha's fuel tank.
"Looking a bit ragged this morning, Skeeter. Must have been out partying with new friends from out of town or something. Nice Hummer, by the way."
Skeeter offered no explanation, watching the red can empty into his snowmachine.
"No charge this time," Tucker said as he finished. But when Skeeter thought the cop might simply move on, instead he got in his face with a tight whisper. "I thought I told you to lay low for a while--quit the goddamn dealing and partying until we get this thing cleaned up around here. And for the record, posting that f**king cell phone video on that death fetish website was just about the stupidest thing you could do. Now I've got those ass**les in Fairbanks busting my balls about losing control of a crime scene!" Tucker was furious, and ordinarily that might make Skeeter worry. But not today.
"Do I need to remind you that our little operation stands a damn good chance of getting blown up in our faces? I've got Staties coming up here later this week to crawl all over this investigation. I won't have you giving them added reasons to stick around and see what else is going on out here. You got that?" Skeeter ignored him, moving around him to take a seat on the sled.
"Are you that f**king stupid," Tucker scoffed, "or are you just stoned?"
"I have never been clearer in my life," Skeeter replied.
"I want to know who you were partying with last night. Where did you go? Jesus Christ, were you idiot enough to tell them anything about me or our arrangement?"
"None of that is any of your concern. What you want no longer matters. I have other priorities." When Skeeter turned the engine over, Tucker's hand came down hard on his shoulder. "If you f**k with me on this, don't think I won't throw you under the bus. You'll go down faster than you can say felony possession with intent to distribute. Cross me now and I swear to God I will bury you."
Skeeter held the flinty gaze of his recent silent business partner. "That would not be wise, Officer Tucker." He saw the momentary flinch of shock in the cop's eyes and felt a small sense of triumph that he had put it there. "Thanks for the gas, though."
Skeeter gave the sled some juice and tore out of the parking lot. By the time he reached his mother's house at the end of the block, he was full of his newfound power and twitchy with the need to carry out his Master's orders. He parked the snowmachine and ran into the back door of the house, aware, but not caring, that his heavy boots clomped loudly on the old wooden floor of the hallway.
Before he was inside his apartment for even as much as a minute, his mother started moving around upstairs, her muffled complaints echoing down to him beneath her bedroom. He knew she'd be storming down to bitch at him, and could hardly say that he was disappointed when she did.
"Stanley Elmer Arnold!" she screamed, banging on his door. "Do you have any idea what time it is?
You worthless piece of shit! How dare you stay out all goddamn night, making me worry about you, only to drag your sorry ass back home at the crack of dawn and wake me out of a dead sleep! You're nothing but a loser and a--"
Skeeter was at the door and in the hallway with her, his hand clamped punishingly around her throat and cutting her off before the words had a chance to shriek out of her mouth.
"Be quiet, bitch," he told her harshly. "I'm working in here." If she'd uttered even one syllable as his hand peeled away from her, Skeeter would have killed her, right then and there. And she knew it, by God. She understood that things would be different now. Soundless, she stepped back from him, wobbling just a little in her ratty slippers and matted terry housecoat. Slowly she turned around and walked carefully back up the hallway where she'd come from. Skeeter Arnold cocked his head at her retreating bulk, then smiled as he returned to the more important tasks that awaited him in the shithole apartment he called home.
Chapter Eleven
It was strange being back in his old quarters at his father's Darkhaven, as though he'd somehow walked into a distant, remembered dream of home that no longer seemed to fit him quite the same way. True to her word, however, Kade's mother had made sure nothing was out of place since he'd left a year ago. After the long night he'd had in Harmony, he could appreciate the thick, engulfing cushion of his leather mission-style recliner, which was perfectly situated in front of the massive, river-rock fireplace that roared with freshly laid logs.