Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing the House MD Characters for a little while.
Beta: My profuse thanks to my betas who gave their kind attention to this project and offered excellent advice: leakey_lover and bookfan85, and bishojo_kitsune for her cheerleading skills.
Time for Moar...
"What makes you so sure you're a murderer? I mean besides being partial to biting people and drinking their blood?" House asked, while his blue eyes studied Wilson intently.
Wilson shrugged. "A card-carrying member of the living dead is enough explanation for most."
"But not for me. You have no memory of killing anyone, right?" House watched as Wilson stood up and wore a path out of the industrial-grade carpet.
There was a curt nod.
"Then what's your proof that you committed these crimes?"
"They're either my patients, or patients in my department. Does any of your information contain details about a young female patient who had leukemia?"
House noted Wilson was on the verge of hysteria, but it was erupting in little ways--nervous energy, darting eyes, and his voice rising in pitch.
Tapping his fingers at the base of his neck, Wilson explained, "She didn't die of the disease, but from blood loss."
"Only one person died that way?"
"I suppose I got hungry in the middle of my murder spree. Are you disappointed there aren't more?" Wilson answered, exasperated.
"Well, why not more blood lettings? Why kill patients prematurely with overdoses?" House reasoned.
"Because, because...I don't know!" Wilson stopped and waved his arms, stammering, "I-I'm afraid it's the book. The invisibility charm. It changed me, somehow. People started dying after I began reading it."
House bounced his cane on the floor. "If I watch a monster truck rally, I don't go out and run people over with my car."
Wilson barked out a laugh. "No, only my Luminox watch to see if it was unbreakable. It wasn't, and you still owe me, by the way."
"Which proves my point," House calmly explained. "You have plenty of reasons to want to kill me, but you haven't. No book or spell is going to make you a murderer.
"Let's call it even on the watch when I clear you." House offered.
"Wait. You're saying I'm innocent?" Wilson looked like he never considered the possibility.
House answered, "I'd never call you innocent, Jimmy. You cheated on three wives, including me, and you're a first-class liar, but you're not a murderer. The only one you are likely to kill is yourself."
The blue eyes became ice blue lasers, as House's tone turned hard. "Where is it? Give it to me."
Crossing his arms protectively over his chest, Wilson shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
They were at an impasse. Neither was giving in.
"Give it to me, or I'll rip this room to pieces finding it. I promise you won't succeed, and all you'll have to show for tonight is a whopping hotel bill," House threatened.
The deadlock between them felt like half an eternity, but the match finally turned in House's favor. Without saying a word, Wilson went to the bed, pulled an object from under the pillow, and handed it to House. Most people glancing at it would think it a gardening tool, but it was a weapon. Ancient and yet high tech. A brushed metal handle, smooth and sensuous to the touch, fitted with a thin, long, four-sided blade crafted from polished walnut. House ran his thumb gingerly over the point.
The end was so sharp it pierced his skin and drew blood before he felt the sting.
This was no wooden shard from a broken broomstick.
"Where did you get this?" House demanded.
"Zehava." Wilson whispered, and turned away.
Holding the weapon steadily against the table, House slammed his cane down and destroyed a good two inches off the tip.
He rose, went over, and stood behind Wilson's hunched shoulders and quietly said, "Let's go home."
"How did Zehava get in the picture?"
Once they were back at the apartment, House was relentless. He wanted to get to the bottom of this mystery as fast as possible. Other lives were at risk, and so was his partner's.
"I called her."
"Thought you didn't know how to reach her?" Pushed House.
Looking exhausted, Wilson sat on the couch clinging to the spell book as if it were a life raft. Dark shadows pooled under his eyes, and he kept blinking to focus.
"There...are ways," Wilson answered listlessly.
"So, she came. Just like that?" House didn't let on that he already knew about the meeting in the coffee shop. He wanted to see how elaborately Wilson would lie.
"Yeah. Told her I was in danger of being exposed. You don't say that sort of thing unless it's true, and if one vampire's discovered, all the rest are at risk."
"So she cheerfully brought you a weapon of body mass destruction?"
"That's about it," Wilson replied glumly.
"She's such a nurturer." House rolled his eyes. "You sure have a knack for picking women."
"Which you never tire of reminding me." Wilson asked quietly, "Can we drop this? I'd like to read for a while--"
House lost his patience, prying the filthy thing from Wilson's hands. "We're back to the book. You think the invisibility spell got you into this mess, but you can't let go of it. You're like an internet addict. Dude, that book's not worthy. It doesn't have any dirty pictures."
"House!" Wilson tried grabbing it away, but couldn't get it.
Holding the volume out of Wilson's reach, House said, "You can have your fix after answering all my questions. If we're dealing with a vampire, I know it's not you. What about Zehava? Could she be setting you up? There's no love lost between you."
Wilson rose from the couch. They were face-to-face. "How do you know it's not me?"
"I've been doing some snooping, and I went down to the morgue before leaving the hospital this evening. Checked the bodies of the last two patients in your department who died prematurely. One had faint fang marks on the neck which no one would have noticed unless they knew what to look for, and this was wadded up in the hand." House handed over a crumpled piece of heavy paper. "Notice anything missing, Jimmy?"
Wilson smoothed out the paper and saw that it was a black-and-white snapshot.
"Why, that's from my oncology Halloween party for the ki--"
He stopped when he saw his costume. For the last couple of celebrations he dressed in a top hat and tails. It served double purpose. It lent an air of authority as master of ceremonies for the evening and was appropriate attire for his humble magician's act.
There he was...or wasn't. There was the elegant tux, and right above it was the top hat. In between there was nothing. He shivered involuntarily.
House explained. "Taken with an old-fashioned film camera. Not digital. Since the negative uses a coating of fine silver particles to record images--"
"--I didn't show up in the photo. It's especially distinctive in black-and-white photography. With almost everyone using digital, I don't worry about dodging cameras anymore unless I see those disposable ones sitting on tables at weddings and bar mitzvahs. Then I plead hospital emergency and make my escape."
"But someone knew about you. Who else would take black-and-white photos at a colorful costume party? They wanted others to know too. It was a calling card from whomever is framing you."
Wilson sat down, stunned and relieved. "This means it wasn't me."
"Damned right. It was never you." House left no doubts when he said it.
House sat at the other end of the sofa, propping his long legs on top the coffee table, he continued nonchalantly, "Is Zehava still in town?"
"As far as I know. She's visiting a friend at the hospital. You don't suspect her, do you?" Wilson shot back a glare.
House answered. "Why not? She has a medical degree. Knows her way around a hospital. Not to mention, she fills up a lab coat nicely. The most loving thing she's ever done is support your decision to off yourself." House kept his anger to a low simmer.
"Now wait a minute." Wilson stood up, his eyes snapping and his arms waving. "I've tried explaining this to you before. You have to understand most vampires can't stand the sight of each other, but that's normal. It's about territory. Spreads us out so we don't compete for the same food supply and become high profile."
"Yet she's lurking around the hospital."
"She's not lurking." Wilson responded, the three words shrouded in frustration.
"Shall we go over there and take a look?"
Wilson looked at his watch. "Sure. I should check on the patients. I'll get my jacket."
It was quiet in the hallways. Most patients were asleep or heavily sedated while Wilson made his unofficial rounds.
Fatigued, and fighting off that odd tingly sensation racing through his body, he was nonetheless relieved to know he wasn't the vampire who was on a killing spree. But now he worried about all the patients in his department.
Tonight he went room to room whether it was his case or not. He found a discrepancy in the dosage of a drip for a patient that was under the care of another oncologist. If not caught in time, the patient could have died. He checked the chart. Johnson had done his job correctly. Someone else was playing God.
As Wilson made a mental note to tell House about it and moved on to the next room, House was combing the halls for Zehava.
He found her bending over a microscope in the blood lab.
Blocking the entrance, House directed his caustic remarks to her. "Well, look who joined the staff at Princeton-Plainsboro. Don't expect a warm welcome from me. And don't plan on replacing Wilson with a new childe in the near future. He's still can be counted among the living 'undead.'"
The mature blonde beauty was on him before he saw her get up from the stool. Her aquamarine eyes were framed by lush lashes and set in a flawless complexion molded to exquisite cheekbones. Her vanity would not allow too much age to creep into her features except for a softening around her jawline.
"You! Why don't you keep your mouth shut, and watch over your boyfriend!" she shrilled.
House winced and gave her a cool smile. He'd forgotten The Voice. A thousand cats locked up in a closet for twenty-four hours would sound sweeter than this woman.
"How am I supposed to watch over him when you're having a secret late-night rendezvous? That stake was some sweet weapon you gave him." House countered.
Her expression showed contempt, but she lowered her voice. "I'm guessing he didn't use it?"
"No. No thanks to you." House hoped his eyes didn't betray any anguish at the thought of arriving at Wilson's hotel only to find a dress shirt, slacks, and a tie smothering a heap of dust.
"You don't have to thank me. I knew he'd never go through with it. He's too soft." Zehava's voice was filled with contempt.
House wanted to shake her by the shoulders. "Listen, Akasha of the Damned. Don't mix up good with soft. I know from past experience that he's willing to fall on his sword."
"James? I don't believe you."
House looked around the room. "Where did all the techs go? Did you manufacture an excuse to get them out of here so you could have a tasty snack?"
He walked over to the microscope she was using. Under the clips was a slide of a blood sample from an oncology patient. The label indicated the doctor was Elliott. One of the names on Lucas's list.
"No. Only Dr. Brunelesky is working tonight, and she is a friend of mine," Zehava answered with her usual cold demeanor. "She stepped out for a moment, and I was poking around. I'm sure you know from Wilson that my specialty is hematology."
"Wilson told you what's been going on?"
"It's unfortunate when an operative goes bad." She arrogantly answered.
House got into Zehava's face and spoke fearlessly. "Wilson has nothing to do with this, but what did you expect when you recruited him without his permission? He's a doctor, not a member of Mossad. I'm warning you. Don't mess with my vampire."
She narrowed her eyes as if she was viewing him through one of the microscopes. "You must be an idiot if you think I'm going to take a threat from a minion seriously. Let alone one of Wilson's. I'm going to stick around for a while to ensure that he doesn't bring attention to the Blood Families." She jotted a phone number on a piece of paper. "He can call me here. Let him know I have more stakes if he changes his mind and decides he wants one."
Clicking her heels out of the room, the stilettos typed a steady rhythm down the hallway until the sound faded away.
House muttered under his breath, "She makes the Wicked Witch of the West look like a candy striper."
He flipped open his cell phone, but before he could punch in Wilson's number, an attractive brunette walked in with a name badge that read "Dr. Brunelesky." She, too, was fond of high heels. He wondered if Cuddy hired women only after she checked out their closets.
"Dr. House? What are you doing here?"
Now was a good chance to test Zehava's honesty. "I was walking by and saw a person in your lab. I thought I knew her and came in."
"You mean Dr. Peterson? Where did she go?" The dark-haired woman scanned the equipment on the table as if she would find the blonde hiding behind a test tube.
"Said she had enough of me, and left. I'm sure she'll be back when I'm not around."
Deciding that was a good enough exit line as any, he headed for the door. As he turned the corner, he smiled when he overheard the brunette quietly complain to the empty air, "I'm sure she did, and I'm sure she will. She's no fool."
When House was safely away, he tried calling Wilson's number one more time. It only rang once before it was picked up. "I found out all I wanted to know. Are you ready to leave? I'll meet you at the car."
House reflected on his discussion with Zehava. He despised her. He didn't doubt that he always would. She was nobody's favorite. Wilson barely tolerated her and she was his sire.
Loathsomeness was almost her signature trait. The woman you loved to hate.
But after speaking to her, and for all her brash heartlessness, he didn't sense the cruelty of a murderer within her.
The first thing she did was throw back in his face his failure to protect Wilson. He'd never expected to hear that from her.
But if she wasn't the night stalker doing the deed, who was?
He was back to square one.
tbc…
Thank you for reading. All comments welcome.