Hope and Vengeance (Saa Thalarr, book 1): Saa Thalarr, book 1 Read Free Page A

have no idea why I was so rude. The only excuse I had was that she'd taken me off guard.
    "Mr. Chessman, as long as we're being blunt," she searched my face briefly, "I have to admit I don't feel up to eating. I feel queasy. That's why I was in the ladies' room earlier."
    "You don't feel well?"
    "No, I'm sorry to say, and the idea of eating only makes things worse. Would you like to take a walk instead? There's a footpath running beside the water's edge, or we can sit on one of the benches scattered along the way."
    "I don't feel like eating, either," I acknowledged. We vampires could consume human fare, but we had to eliminate it later—we had no way to digest it. Eating was a way to make humans believe we were the same as they. I preferred not to make the pretense, if I were honest.
    "Good." She tossed a twenty on the table and stood. "I'll let them know on the way out," she sighed. I followed her to the hostess' stand, where she informed Lyndsay that we weren't staying. We walked through the door and into a humid, Corpus Christi night.
    We followed the footpath in silence for several minutes; it led us very near the water and as we walked, I noticed that Anna Madden was much shorter than my six-four height. At least a foot shorter than I, she was also slender in build and I wondered at her chosen profession.
    "Mr. Chessman," she began, "I know you came to investigate those three disappearances that the local media have covered. What you don't know," she looked up at me, "is that there are seventeen others missing as well."
    Schooling my face, I led her to a nearby, slatted wood bench and gestured for her to sit. She sat on one end; I took the other, leaving empty space between us. "I have only been given information on three missing men," I pointed out while trying to control surging anger. My sources were usually reliable, so I was skeptical of Anna's claim and that made me want to growl at her.
    "The three you know about are legal citizens," Anna looked over the waters of the bay, refusing to meet my gaze. I turned to the bay as well, where I could see a jellyfish hovering below the water's surface, its pale luminescence barely visible except to one of my kind. Waves lapped regularly at the shoreline, lending a soft rhythm to the night.
    Anna's words, however, forced my breath to halt for a moment, while my anger disappeared. What she'd said was a terrifying possibility, and worry now replaced my anger. If this was the work of vampires, we could have serial killers on our hands. That's never a good thing.
    "You're saying that seventeen others—perhaps in the U.S. illegally, are also missing?" I asked.
    "That's right. And all of them have connections to Hartshorne Oil."
    "One of the refineries located outside the city?" I'd done my homework on the jet when I'd made the journey to south Texas—Hartshorne Oil and several other petroleum companies comprised the larger business concerns in the area.
    "Yes."
    "How do you know about these people? I have no information on them," I admitted reluctantly.
    "Do you think their families are going to rush forward and report a missing person if that person isn't here with proper documentation? I believe the Hartshorne refinery in Corpus Christi has been experiencing cash flow problems, so undocumented workers would be cheaper to hire and easier to pay under the table."
    That troubled me. "You're suggesting that this problem is more widespread than the authorities believe?"
    "Yes."
    "Who would mind if they disappeared?" I asked, testing her. I knew illegal immigrants and undocumented workers were a touchy subject with many states and among American politicians.
    "Adam, they're human beings, and if they're being murdered—or worse, then I have a problem with that."
    "Ah. Who brought this to your attention?"
    "My assistant, Rita. One of her cousins is missing, along with the others. I get information through her."
    "Is she also here illegally?"
    "No. Rita was born here. Manuelo