Free A Cup Full of Midnight by Jaden Terrell Page A

the life force of another person.”
    “Life force. That’s blood?”
    “It’s essence. Life energy. Some vampires have to drink blood to get it, but for a really powerful vampire, like Razor, the blood is just a high. He could tap into the life force without that. You’ve heard that old saying that someone just sucks you dry? Someone who sort of saps your strength? Well, that’s a vampire.”
    I could think of a few people who fit the description. “So all this power Razor supposedly had. What did he do with it?”
    She blinked. Frowned. “Do?”
    “Yeah. He didn’t have a job. He didn’t give to charity. So what, exactly, did he do ?”
    She scowled, scratching at the table with her index finger. “He understood people. Made them want to do things for him. Give him things. He could, like, see into people’s heads.”
    “You’re saying he was some kind of mind reader?”
    “I don’t know. Some vampires are.”
    “You aren’t a vampire?”
    “No.” She looked at me as if I weren’t completely bright. “I’m a witch.”
    I opened my mouth to ask another question, and she raised a hand to stop me. “You want to know how it works, I’ll tell you some books to read. Write these down.”
    Miss Aleta pulled out her pad and dutifully scrawled the titles. Charms, witchcraft, vampires, and the player’s handbook for the vampire game. She tore out a sheet of paper and made another copy of the list, which she slid over to me.
    “I didn’t plan on taking a course,” I said to Absinthe, tucking the list into my pocket.
    “Too bad.” She gave me a watery smile. “You need one.”

    A few follow-up questions, and then I walked Miss Aleta to her car. There was a hint of a smile on her lips, and I could see her working out a new defense strategy. Police still had Absinthe’s fingerprints on the knife and the eyewitness who placed her near the crime scene, but without her confession, the case was weak. There might be enough doubt to keep her out of the adult system. Maybe even get a sympathetic judge to award bail.
    “I’ll call Josh,” I said. “See if I can find out where he and Absinthe went when they left Razor’s. Maybe there was another witness.”
    “You do that,” Miss Aleta said. “I’ll make a date with the prosecutor.”

    The phone conversation with Josh was unenlightening.
    Where did you and Absinthe go when you left Razor’s?
    We weren’t at Razor’s.
    A witness put you there.
    Just in the neighborhood. We didn’t go to the house.
    Then what—?
    Just watching.
    Watching what?
    Nothing. Everything. Just watching.
    They’d watched the neighborhood for a couple of hours. Then Absinthe drove Josh home and—presumably—went back to her place. No, they hadn’t seen anything. No, no one had gone into the house. Around mid-morning, Byron had come out carrying a black workout bag and pulled away in Razor’s Camaro. He was too young to have a license, but I guess that didn’t mean much to either of them. Josh and Absinthe had left at eleven—more than an hour before the murder, if the medical examiner’s estimated time of death was accurate. Filling in the blanks, I thought Josh had probably gone there to see Razor. Changed his mind and left when he saw Byron.
    Razor had lived a few blocks off West End in a refurbished multi-level house with gabled dormers and two pinnacled towers. Half House of Usher, half Addams Family. In balmier weather, I could have walked there from my office. The neighborhood had seen better days, like an aging heiress whose milky complexion had been replaced by wrinkles and age spots. Houses that had once hosted coming out parties and champagne brunches were now considered starter homes and fixer-uppers.
    The only thing the residents had in common was a deep distaste for Razor. He’d died on a Friday. According to the police report, it had been a dreary, drizzling day, and any neighbors who weren’t at work were at the mall or the movies, or huddled inside