Josef Kostan had been alive for 29 years. He had been on this earth for four hundred and nine years. It would have been an understatement to say that he had small respect for humans, and little to no tolerance for them. While he did not kill them for sport – he had morals, after all – he fed on his freshies, he ordered the deaths of those who crossed him, and he had not been truly interested in a mortal woman since Sarah.
He had taken a liking to Beth, and that was surprising. Mick had been, and apparently always would be, the kind of vampire who despised his own existence. That brief year with Sarah had shown Josef what it would have been like to be truly loved, and it had not been an experience he was eager to repeat. The pain from the loss of that love was almost too much for even him to bear. As far as he was concerned, love was a weakness like any other, and Sarah had paid for his mistake.
Beth was different. Josef could see that she made his friend happy, and that was saying something, considering that the entire span of their acquaintance – 56 years, if his math was correct – he had spent seeing Mick miserable. Coraline's mind games had not helped matters any, but Mick had not wanted to be turned, and had never gotten over it. Josef could see glimpses of what Mick had been before when he was with Beth. While privately Josef might think Mick needed to accept who he was, he couldn't deny that he was a little jealous. Even with Sarah, he had never experienced what he saw in his friend's eyes when he looked at Beth.
This cop, Beth's friend . . . he had taken a knee jerk dislike to her, but he was old enough to admit that it wasn't entirely warranted. The woman had accepted the news of the existence of vampires with barely a blink.
With a few efficient taps on his keyboard, Josef brought up information on the entire tiny span of Finley Aurora Monahan's life. She was born in L.A. to a cop and a housewife, second-generation Irish immigrants. She had left home for college at 17, graduated at 21, and went straight to the Academy. Josef ran his tongue along his teeth as he read of her stellar record, right up until an apparently unplanned pregnancy at 27.
There was no father listed on the birth certificate, but police records were nothing if not thorough. At five months pregnant, Finley had been assaulted in an apartment shared by one Darnell Washington. She did not press charges, but the record remained available to those savvy enough to dig for it.
Josef leaned back, considering. He hadn't been alive as long as he had by being blindly trusting. Still, Beth's opinion did carry some weight, and Finley was . . . interesting. He glanced at his watch. He was due to meet her in an hour, at nine. Might as well have a snack while he waited.
Finley resisted the urge to tug at her jacket. She had spent entirely too much time already agonizing over her outfit than she considered necessary, and that was saying something for a woman who considered herself practical to a fault. She loved clothes, but she didn't have the budget or the time to obsess over them. Still, as she passed by the mirrored elevator, she couldn't stop herself from giving her image a once-over. Same boots, jeans, white shirt, and green jacket she'd put on this morning. She tucked a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear, irritated. She knew she'd regret it when she let her hairdresser talk her into bangs.
She had to wonder why she was so concerned with how she looked. It wasn't as if she was trying to make a good first impression. She knew how she felt about Josef and he had made it clear he cared little for her. Still, that female part of her that didn't like to be seen in public without makeup – the part of her that she quashed on numerous occasions in the course of her job and the one she would dearly love to silence at the moment – would not shut up.
You look fine, she thought to herself. Stop worrying about it.
The man behind the desk in the lobby of Josef's office had looked extremely bored when she flashed her badge, until he checked his computer and found that she actually did have an appointment. With more courtesy than she considered necessary, he had insisted on escorting her to the elevators. It was in the quiet confines of one that she currently found herself, attempting to not give her internal pep talk aloud.
The elevator stopped at the top floor. Not a surprise. Josef Kostan, the human, had built a reputation for himself as a wealthy entrepreneur. Knowing what she did about him now, he had more than the years he looked to have amassed the wealth and power he had, and he was not the type to have an office on any less than the penthouse.
She had gone home last night and done her research. Josef Kostan's offices had been bombed last year. There had been no survivors, at least that had been the initial thought, but he had resurfaced a week later, saying he had been out of town at the time of the attack. As far as she could find, he was a wealthy genius who had built his business from the ground up at a very young age. She had to give credit where it was due – whoever did his background, had done a good job.
Finley stepped into the hushed hallway of a very opulent office. Entirely too much glass and steel for her taste, but if Mick's apartment was anything to go by, apparently the older you got the more you liked clean lines in your décor.
"Mr. Kostan?" she called. Okay, that was way too timid-sounding. "Josef Kostan? We had an appointment. Do you make a habit of letting your guests wander around unattended?"
She would have sworn she did no more than blink, and he appeared in front of her. He took her hand with a tilt of his head. "Forgive me. You're early."
She was about to protest when the sight of a shapely brunette emerging from a doorway to the left stopped her. The girl wore a vapid smile and a bandage on her wrist. "I'm early, or you're running late?"
The girl giggled, waved her fingers in Josef's direction and walked into the now vacant elevator. As the doors slid shut, Finley turned her gaze on Josef. "Let's get something straight. I don't like you, you don't like me, but can you at least keep your other – business – separate from ours?"
He held her gaze with enough intensity to make her want to look away, but she refused to back down. "I'll try to remember your delicate sensibilities next time."
Finley raised an eyebrow. "I seem to have misplaced my delicate sensibilities, seeing as how I was raised in the 20th century. I hardly think you've made it this far in life without knowing how to conduct a business. You had an appointment. Keep it."
She stepped around him toward the doorway she had seen the woman come out of. She glanced back toward him and was surprised to find amusement on his face. "Coming?"
With a roll of his shoulders, Josef followed the very irritating redhead into his office.
Although he kept a home in Malibu, truth be told, this was where he spent the majority of his time. Behind a locked door in the back, he had a freezer where he slept when his nights ran long. Like his home, here at his office there was a constant supply of freshies. He might admire Mick's resolve, but he, for one, didn't understand the appeal of blood in bags.
It was time to assert his authority over the situation. His desk was behind a bank of windows, currently displaying the lights of L.A. He took a seat behind it and watched as the cop assessed the room.
There wasn't any way he would have mistaken her for anything other than a cop, even had he not known. She had that air of watchfulness about her, the wary eyes of someone who knew better than to take things for face value. She wasn't beautiful, but she didn't blend into the crowd, either.
Finley finished scanning the room, and finally looked at Josef. "You have the list?"
He waited until she took a seat across from his desk. He placed the folder on the glossy black surface, slid it toward her with one fingertip. "You understand that the contents of this are confidential."
Her heartbeat sped up imperceptibly to show her irritation, but her face remained calm. "I do understand the situation, thank you."
She took a moment to read the list of names. "And nothing else was delivered?"
"No. A call was placed to A.D.A. Talbot that night. We do not know what was said. What we do know is that he gave this list to someone under him, with orders to investigate. To find the 'common denominators' among the names, as it were."
Finley glanced over the names. There were a few, like Josef's, that stood out because they were in the public eye. Doctors, lawyers, producers - your usual L.A. fare. The majority she had not heard of.
"I'm going to find out what I can. But you understand that I can't ask around too much without attracting attention, which is the last thing you need right now."
Josef tilted his head. "Discretion is important. But we also have to be aware that we need to remain a step ahead of whoever it was who sent the list, and they are already two steps ahead of us."
She nodded. "Point taken." She stood, hesitated, and sat back down. "Mr. Kostan – "
"Josef." He couldn't explain why, but he wanted to hear his name on her lips.
Finley struggled a moment, gave in. "Josef. In your entire . . . existence, have you ever been aware of a group that tracked vampires?"
He leaned back in his chair, tapping a hand on his desk. "Aware? Yes, in a secondhand way. There have been events in history that have been reported to be otherwise, but they actually were vampire cullings. Those who carried out the executions had to get their information from somewhere." He paused, dark eyes intense on hers. "There have been rumors for centuries of a group of humans who call themselves the Legion. It's been said they track the vampire population. When the population gets too large – whatever their idea of too large is – they mark the vampires they want to be killed."
Finley let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding. "Hmm. My history class skipped that part."
Josef's lip twitched. "Yes, well, we do try to stay under the radar."
Glancing at the folder in her hands, Finley returned his gaze. "You might try harder."
Josef leaned forward, and Finley firmly ignored the female in the back of her head that noticed how nicely his shoulders filled out his pressed red shirt. "Vampires tend to change names every 20 years, relocate. It's a necessary part of our lives, but I'm not ready to leave L.A. and neither is Mick. We need to know who is doing this."
She gave him a genuine smile, and he blinked, surprised. It took her from pretty to stunning. "We'll find out."
She stood again and walked toward the door. For a reason he didn't want to spend time figuring out, he didn't want her to leave yet. "Finley?"
She turned. "Yes?"
"You didn't ask me how old I am."
Finley raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want to offend your . . . sensibilities. I assume even vampires don't like to be asked their age."
He smiled at her use of his earlier, old-fashioned word. "Vampire women don't."
"Nice to know there are some characteristics women don't lose, human or vampire."
"That one they don't. But in case you're wondering, I was born in 1599."
Finley had done her best to take this whole case at face value – they'd shown her proof of what they were, and she hadn't wanted to spend any more time than necessary thinking about what that meant. Looking at the man in front of her, a man who didn't look as if he'd seen his thirtieth birthday yet, but who had just told her he was four hundred and nine years old, she found she still couldn't wrap her head around it.
"Okay. I'm going to go home and do some research. Any recommendations? Interview with the Vampire, Dracula?"
Josef laughed. "None of them got it right."
Finley adjusted the purse on her shoulder. "Good to know."
He watched the woman as she walked out of the door. And wondered.