This Side of the Grave (Night Huntress, #5)(66)

“If there are more ghosts like you who can channel the same impressive anger into something tangible, then you’re right. Ghosts would be a valuable asset to have in a fight,” Vlad said, inclining his head.

Fabian acknowledged the gesture with a nod of his own, pulling his finger and then the rest of himself back to float by me. I didn’t give him a high five—that didn’t work very well with ghosts—but I did flash him a discreet thumbs-up. So much for me needing to defend him or his species. I couldn’t have done half as good a job as Fabian had.

“All right. If things go even more south with Apollyon, good to know we can potentially add ghosts to our list of allies, if Fabian can act as ambassador between his people and ours,” I said, bringing things back to the original subject. “Dave, where was this fun little rally held, anyway?”

He grimaced. “You’re really not going to like this part. From the bits of conversation I overheard, Apollyon is the owner of a few large chains of funeral homes and cemeteries, using humans as figureheads for investors and board members. The rally was behind a funeral home that bordered a cemetery. Lots of room there, and they had guards around the area to keep anyone away who wasn’t on the guest list.”

Damn Apollyon. The short, balding shit was clever. No one would think twice about a large group gathered at a graveyard. They’d just assume someone rich or from a big family was being buried. Most people didn’t visit cemeteries for cheery reasons, so it wasn’t the place where striking up impromptu conversations was the norm. Not to mention it would take a really ballsy person to go up to a group gathered around a gravesite with the opening line of “So what are we talking about, anyway?”

Vlad let out a bark of laughter. “He’s found a way to make money from eating, not to mention have a network of secure locations for meetings.”

“Make money from . . . oh,” I said as the rest of what Apollyon was doing became clear. “He’s not burying all the bodies brought to him, but eating some instead?”

“Not just some,” Dave supplied grimly. “Lots. If you’re a member of Apollyon’s line, either by blood or membership through his extremist group, then your food’s supplied to you for free. If not, Apollyon has an underground supermarket for ghouls who would rather buy their own food than go out hunting and gathering for it.”

I couldn’t throw up anymore, but I thought I might dry heave. Most of the times, ghouls ate raw meat of the animal variety, like uncooked steak or pork roast. But at least a couple times of year, they needed to add some Homo sapiens to their diet in order to maintain their strength. Don supplied Dave’s extra dietary requirements from bodies donated to science or left unclaimed at hospitals. It didn’t take much. One corpse on ice parceled out in small amounts could last a ghoul a year or two, easy.

But taking money from grieving families to bury their loved ones, then turning around and selling those loved ones like so much deli meat while burying an empty casket instead? That was just . . . wrong.

“Apollyon makes those pension-stealing Wall Street crooks look like amateurs,” I said, shaking my head.

“That’s damn straight,” Dave muttered.

“It does give us a new way to attempt to track him,” Mencheres noted, logical as always. “I’ll have some ghouls in our line start investigating places rumored to sell human meat. Perhaps we can find one connected to Apollyon. In the interim, Dave, tell me where this funeral home is. I want to go there.”

“Why?” I asked. “I’ll have Tate start watching it from satellite and tapping into their phone lines and Internet to see if we can luck out and snag Apollyon that way, but all of us showing up there is too risky.”

Mencheres gave me a faint smile. “I agree. That’s why I’ll be going alone.”

“Haven’t you had enough of risking your life to play lone hero lately?” Vlad asked, making an exasperated noise.

“One vampire stands a far better chance of avoiding notice than three,” Mencheres pointed out. “I agree that everything Cat outlined should be done, but that’s not enough. If I’m close, I can listen to the thoughts of any humans they might employ, as well as scent the area to see if Apollyon’s been there—and before you tell me you can do all these things, of the three of us, I am better equipped to escape should my presence be detected.”

I’d love to argue with him, but he was right, and the tight line of Vlad’s mouth said that he knew it, too.

“When are you intending to do this?” I asked, glancing out the window. It would be dark in a couple hours, and we were supposed to be cruising the bar and club scene as usual, hoping Apollyon or one of his close aides was in a partying mood.

“Now,” Mencheres said, nodding at Dave. “Direct me.”

Dave gave him the location of the funeral home/cemetery, and Mencheres walked away without another word, heading up the stairs to weapon up, I guessed.

“You’ll call us when you’re done, right?”

“Yes,” his voice floated down.

Dave glanced at his watch. “I gotta get back. Don’t want them swinging by my apartment early and wondering why I’m not there.”

I gave him a final hug, resisting the urge to tell him to be careful. He was a smart, tough soldier and he already knew that.