I patted Britney gingerly on the shoulder. She snorted, blowing her nose into a cocktail napkin she then used to dab her eyes. Again, she sat in my lap. But this time with her head against my shoulder, sniffling into my suit, gurgling all the while: "Sorry I'm not usually like this."

Isla kept tapping her foot hard enough for the table to vibrate. She shot me embarrassed glances between Britney's sobs. I shrugged for the hundredth time, glaring my displeasure at Isla since I was unsure of what else to do with the mess she just made.

Isla waved a hand over her eyes, crossed them (impressively) and mouthed no brainwashing.

Sigh.

Alright, old boy. The time for theatrics was up. "There, there, Britney, you've gotten this out of your system now, haven't you?"

I pushed Britney, gently, off my knee. She slid onto the worn booth between Isla and I with a sniffle, tartan skirt bunching up her thighs. Voice hoarse and continuing to dab her eyes, she apologized again.

"What have you got to be sorry for?" I shoved my hands into my pockets. Partly to keep her from grabbing at them, partly to grab my wallet. "I'm a private investigator. If you know something happened to Rosie, it be in your best interest to tell us."

I handed Britney my card.

"Fuck," she hiccupped, smoothing out her skirt and wiping away mascara with her fingertips. She cleared her throat. "Haven't seen in her days."

"It seems nobody has."

Britney shrugged. "Whatever trouble she's in, I'm not part of it."

"Why would you say she's in trouble?"

"I—because—I don't know," Britney twisted one of her braids, plastering on a fake smile that didn't reach her reddened eyes. "Really, I don't, and I'm sorry about all this, handsome."

"Come on, now. You can do better than that."

"Why don't I grab you two some more drinks, on the house. You look like an O-negative kind of guy."

She tried sliding over me in the booth, but I didn't budge. When she realized I wouldn't let her pass, she backed away, scooching closer to Isla. Isla inched right back, wedging Britney between us.

Britney kept her gaze on the table. The gal worked with vampires. She thought she knew what I could do to her if she looked up, what secrets I could make her spill. But she'd been spilled quite a lot already, it seemed. Her chest and thighs were dotted with scars old and new. How many of those bite marks had Britney been made to think she wanted because she looked at the wrong vampire, I wonder.

"Hey Britney, it's okay!"

Isla draped an arm around Britney, tugging her closer to that end of the booth. With her flapper dress and feathered hairpiece, they looked like a pair of sorority sisters at a costume party.

"You are not in trouble," she said, Britney watching her fiddle with the bills. "And neither is Lily. Definitely not. I mean, not from us, at least. No way. Obvi you babes are friends."

"Rosie's real name is Lily Perez, isn't it?" I said.

Britney took several shaky breaths, dabbing her nose again as she looked between myself and Isla. Eventually she whispered: "Don't tell my boss I talked to you guys, okay?"

"You don't have the papers for this, do you?"

Face reddening, Britney pushed Isla away (the latter shot me a fiery look). "Oh, come on, dude, who does?" she said. "I'm broke as shit and got recruited from dance school for this. Pretty sure Lil did too."

Recruitment from dance school? Oh Dmitri, loitering for fresh blood on a college campus? That was juicy. Just how long had the old git known Lily before she started mixing him lattes? How the girl managed to juggle both gigs was beyond me. I grabbed my pen and notebook from pocket.

"What're you writing?" Britney asked, voice tense.

"Just that you confirmed that yourself and Lily Perez were unlicensed blood donors and escorts at this club. Unless, of course, you'd like to clarify something?"

"I didn't say we were giving any blood."

I gestured to her scarred legs with my pen. Britney's blush deepened and she pulled down her skirt.

"Britney, honey, chillax." Isla patted the girl on her thigh. "Greggy over here totes doesn't have a permit for entering homes uninvited, or hypnotizing humans that don't belong to him, but that doesn't stop the guy."

Britney blanched.

I ground my teeth so hard my jaw audibly cracked. What was she doing? "She doesn't mean—"

"What I mean," Isla said into her wine glass. A droplet of rosé dribbling down her lips. "Is that nobody is going to narc on you for permits, babe. The big scary vampire is trying to intimidate you, but you know the game."

Britney eyed me up and down. She was still tense, her heartbeat jackhammering in her chest. I doubt she liked me very much now. With shaky fingers, she pulled one of her braids back over her shoulder to hide her pulsing jugular.

"He's not really big or scary," she said coolly.

The hell? Ball was flying out to left field and beyond. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Great, now that we've established—"

"Oh, no, he's not in the least bit," snorted Isla.

I shouldn't strangle her. I mean, I wanted to, sure. Of course. But that would be bad, wouldn't it? That be real uncivil of me. Going around strangling all the people that annoyed you is frowned upon, still, old boy, we can remember that, no matter how tempting that pretty little neck of hers is—eh, who am I kidding, she'd probably enjoy it.

... Boy did that sure put a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"But you could've fooled me before, with that act," Isla continued, "I bet you always know how to act around these vamps. How they like it. You and Lily must be pros at that, to be the tastiest snacks in this club."

Britney's heartrate dropped a fraction. She gave the smallest of nods. "Lily has this specialty. For vamps," she glared at me. "This, like, Fated Lovers bit. Um, how do I describe it—"

As Britney twisted her lip searching for her words, Isla shot me a grin. I rolled my eyes at her. Sweet hell, woman, that was the most unnecessarily convoluted questioning tactic I have witnessed in my entire existence and I cannot believe it actually worked that was fanging amazing.

"She, like," Britney continued, "pretends to be a long-lost lover. From, like, a past life. She's a really good actress."

A chill rolled over the table. Isla felt it too, shivering. "Past life?" she whispered.

"Do you mean," I jumped in, unable to stop myself. "A reincarnation act? She'd pretend to be a vampire's dead past lover reincarnated?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, totally that," Britney nodded. "Um, I don't like doing that kind of stuff, so don't ask."

"Who were her clients?"

"I don't know," she answered, quickly. Too quickly.

I peeked over at Isla to find she was already giving me that same batshit look I was eyeing her about.

"Your boss must appreciate your discretion," I noted Britney's reaction in my notebook. "But maybe it isn't their appreciation you're worried about?"

Britney took a deep breath.

"Lily quit, okay? Weeks ago. It was real sudden. She didn't want to talk about it but, I think... I don't know, maybe she got freaked out? She didn't, neither of us, grew up thinking, you know, you were real. She wouldn't name him, but she always said one of her clients was pretty intense," Britney swallowed. "She needs this gig, pouring coffees doesn't pay the rent, man. We joke all the time about how good this money is, and how's she saving it for some grand beach vacation she's going to jet off to with..."

"Were you going to say her boyfriend? We know she had many."

"She had many johns. One boyfriend. But," Britney shook her head. When she spoke again, her voice quaked. "They were always having some kind of fight. I don't know him or what it was about, exactly. She said he would come to the club sometimes, to make sure she felt safe. I said that sounded controlling, not sweet, but," she shrugged. "She'd slip him the password on napkins, but when they were fighting, she wouldn't pass it along. Last I talked to her they were fighting again. She said something cryptic about a change of heart, and then, I don't know, she stopped replying to my texts. Do you, like, think he could have hurt her?"

"No, no." Isla patted Britney on the back. Her voice was soft, but I could sense her pulse quickening just under her skin. She wouldn't meet Britney in the eye, either. "I'm sure Lily will turn up okay."

Isla was tapping out that easy?

"I need to know more about this boyfriend," I said.

Britney shook her head, hard, shaking Isla off her shoulders. "I don't know anymore."

"Lily must've talked about him. What about when things were good between them?"

"Was he a vampire?" Isla interjected. "Maybe somebody with, like, really large fangs?"

"I don't know," said Britney.

"You don't know he was vampire, or how big his fangs were?"

"Stop that," I muttered to Isla. "Britney, what about the last time Lily worked? When was that? Was that one of the nights her boyfriend showed up?"

Isla, of course, ignored me. "She ever mention if her beau had a pet who died recently?"

"How," I groaned. "How did you even get to that—no, don't tell me."

"Well excuse me, Mr. I-Don't-Have-a-Control-Thing."

A headache pulsed between my eyes. Raw and throbbing. Isla needed to shut up before she killed and buried this lead. Britney was breaking. The woman was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and it seemed officially unable to keep her hands steady long enough to wipe away those mascara drenched tears.

"I, uh, I need some air," she said.

Before either myself or Isla could note we were already outside, Britney ducked beneath the table. As she crawled out from under us and broke into a run, she bumped the tabletop. The wine glasses toppled, but if vampire reflexes were good for something, it was for catching spilled drinks, I guess. I snatched both before they could soak Isla. She blinked, seemingly surprised at not being drenched.

But Britney was getting away.

I slid both glasses over to her and jumped out the booth.

"Wait here," I said, "while I go scrape the salvageable bits of questioning off the pavement."

"What?"

"Because you threw this interview off the roof!" I grumbled, following Britney out onto the dance floor.

In the booth, it was easier to focus. Things were steady and grounded. But out in the crowd I become acutely aware that Gettin' Jiggy Wit It was blaring from the DJ booth. The bar had grown more crowded. Creatures and humans – clad in their best horrendous 1990s fashion – danced and drank. Some from wax cups. Some from each other. The bodies on the dance floor moved as a tumultuous sea. They smelled like sweat and liquor and cologne and blood. It all made my head hurt.

No eyes on Britney.

This wasn't fun. Bringing Isla up here was a mistake. I'd have done much better just pretending to be a waiter, like my original plan. I couldn't concentrate like this. Hadn't been satisfied with a single piece of progress in this case since meeting her. Course, I should've realized that before I was chasing a phantom Britney Spears across a rooftop.

I made way to the bar the djinn was tending. Britney had likely run off to a staff only spot. There was a door in the wall at this bar, presumably leading back indoors to the lounge. As I approached, that door opened. Out stepped none other than Julian, Dmitri's valet, in another oversized suit. His black hair, thick yet seemingly starting to gray in some patches, was as askew as his tie, and he carried several manila envelopes under one arm.

Lily's nosy neighbor popped into my head.

"Hm. Only saw him from the back. Nice hair. Baggy suit."

The woman thought I was someone else from behind. Someone with black hair and a baggy suit.

Julian slipped out from behind the bar. I pounced. Snagging him by his loose sleeve, I dragged the human to the dance floor. The pulsing bodies around gave cover. It must've taken him a moment to realize what was happening. His eyes widened. I expected him to scream – and hoped the abrupt music change to Alanis Morrissette would drown those screams out. But he merely blinked at me, trembling, and clutching his envelopes.

"Evening, Julian," I growled. "Been meaning to ask you about that comment you made the other night. What was it? Ah, yeah, that that girl doesn't need to be found. Odd choice of words there, pal. Especially from someone who was seen outside her apartment the night she split."

"Not here!" he yelled, looking over his shoulder. "South side of the roof. Meet me there in two hours. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

"Nah, I think I'm free right now." I began dragging him back toward my table.

Julian futilely pressed his heels into the concrete. "No, she can't see us together right now!"

"Who?"

"Ahem."

A heavy hand clapped me on the back, knocking me off balance. I released Julian. Little rat scampered off into the crowd.

"Hey," said Curtis, looming over with his hand on my shoulder. "You lose something?"

With her arm clasped in Curtis' other hand, Isla smiled and gave me a little wave.

Fangs.