Scott’s gaze slid in her direction. He looked like he was holding back words.
“We’ll check the ER for the one who got his throat cut.” Hahm scribbled a quick memo in the notebook.
Scott touched the bump on the back of his head and winced. “How did the police know we were in trouble?”
“An officer was on patrol in the neighborhood and heard someone scream.” Hahm's smile was patient. “So that’s all you can tell me?”
“That’s it,” Emily agreed, though she hadn’t been forthright with the details. Hahm would think her even battier if she admitted the attackers were vampire wannabes. Her rescuer might be one too. Or maybe he was a zombie? He hadn’t shuffled around the room like a clumsy oaf or moaned for brains though. She wished she’d told Hahm that the others had taken his body. It would’ve been easier to believe.
Corpses weren’t supposed to get up or walk and talk.
After a few more questions, Hahm rose from the chair. “I’ll be in touch.”
Scott waited for the detective to leave. “I wish you hadn’t told her the dead guy ran off. She probably thinks you’re a nut job.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She cast a lopsided grin at him and shrugged.
“I know that look. You’re hiding something.”
“They pretended to be vampires. Only it was too real, you know? And the guy on the table really was dead as a doornail.”
Scott’s voice was calm and measured, “Are you certain?”
She nodded. “They all wore pretty convincing fangs. They looked real.”
“I recognized the scent, but didn’t have time to react.”
“What? The one smelled like he’d stood too close to a barbecue. And the other one…”
“Never mind.” Scott forced a laugh. “What matters is that you’re okay.”
“I want to find John Doe,” Emily said, even surprising herself.
Scott walked with her to her car and opened the door. He waited until she dropped inside to speak again. “That’s a bad idea, Em. You’re just going to scare up more trouble. Just leave it alone.”
The drive from Oklahoma City to Witcher Springs took about fifteen minutes. Each car and shadow she passed seemed sinister in the predawn darkness. She turned off the main road onto the county loop and drove up the secluded dirt driveway.
The single-story ranch home sat atop a hill at the end of the road. The porch light’s yellow beacon was a welcome sight. Honeysuckle vines wound around the trellises on either side of the steps. Their sweet perfume wafted on the night air and mingled with the scent of rain.
Bill Duncan, the old man she and Brenda rented from, was the closest neighbor. He retired last June and traveled most of the time. When he wasn’t on the road, he lived at the back of the property in an ancient RV. He’d been gone for about two months and was due back any time.
Emily rushed into the house, wary of the shadows just beyond the porch light’s glow. She sank onto the lumpy old couch and breathed a sigh of relief.
“What happened?” Brenda’s voice from the back hallway startled her. “Is that blood in your hair?”
Emily touched the stiff strands and grimaced. Yeah, it was blood and probably some of John Doe’s brain matter.
Brenda moved to the couch and sat on the frayed arm. Her dark hair was frizzy and plastered to her head from sleep. “What happened, sweetie?”
Emily considered what to say. Brenda was her best friend and she deserved the truth – or at least a very close imitation of it. “A couple whack-jobs broke into the mortuary. They hit Scott over the head and attacked me.”
“Why? What were they after?”
“One of the bodies.” She allowed her head to fall back and stared at the ceiling. “I think it was the one who saved me.”
Brenda’s dark eyes were pinched at the corners. She nodded a couple times as Emily provided a brief summation of the night’s events. “I told you there were some sick people out there, Em. Damned freaks come into the club all the time. We call them nosferatu, vampire wannabes.”
Emily had once visited the goth club where Brenda worked. Not only had people dressed like they were from a dreary gothic novel, but some even pretended to be vampires or other preternatural creatures. Their fangs weren’t as realistic as her attackers, but the idea of them biting and sucking on each other freaked her out.
“Maybe it was just a stupid prank that got out of hand?” Brenda struggled to help her make sense out of it.
Emily fidgeted with the heart charm at her throat. She hadn’t told anyone about her ability to experience what the dead underwent, not even Brenda. Thus far, she’d only ever admitted to seeing what they glimpsed. She saw no reason to confess to it now. “His head was bashed in. I fell across him and saw what happened. He was dead one moment and then he wasn’t.”
A car door slammed, followed by feet thundering across the porch.
The door banged open and her sister’s shrill voice echoed throughout the house. “Emily?”
“Shit.” Emily held her head and groaned. Liz’s high and mighty opinions were just what she needed after everything that had happened tonight.
Brenda laughed at the discouraged expression on Emily's face.
“News travels fast around here. I’ll be in my room if you need me. I don’t want any part of your sister’s drama.”
Liz bustled into the house. A frown pinched her features. At thirty, she was five years Emily’s senior. They were about as different as sisters could get. Her cropped brown hair was wavy while Emily’s was shoulder length, straight and dark red. Liz had ruddy skin like their father and was the spitting image of their mother. Emily, on the other hand, was pale and freckled. Her body was lanky compared to Liz’s shorter stature. She looked nothing like either parent. When they were just girls, Liz had teased that they’d found Emily under a rock. Right about now, she wished she could crawl back under it.
Liz ran a hand through her hair. “Well?”
Emily touched the tiny gold heart again. It was a miracle it hadn’t broken. “Well, what?”
“Denise called to tell me you were in an altercation.” Liz sank onto the couch beside her.
“And you drove all the way over instead of calling? That’s real nice of you.” She offered a saccharine sweet smile.
“Yes, so you can’t hang up on me.”
Emily rolled her eyes. “Here we go.”
“You know I hate that you work at a funeral parlor. It’s so macabre and gross. You’re around dead people all day, for god’s sake.” Liz looked at her expectantly.
“I enjoy what I do.”
“Then why not get a booth at a salon?”
“Have you seen Scott’s makeup skills?” It was useless to explain that mortuary cosmetology was very different than that of the haute salons where Liz believed she should be employed.
Liz's face scrunched. “That’s not what this is about.”
Emily decided to hit below the belt. “Then it must be about Scott. Are you jealous that I get to spend all day with him, and you don’t?”
Liz stood and crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the jab. “I thought you were done with this reading the dead mumbo jumbo.”
The conversation dipped into territory Emily hadn’t expected.
“It’s not like I can turn it off, Liz.”
“Why can’t I have a normal sister?”
“I am normal.” Emily rubbed at her temples. “Do you think I want to relive whatever death has occurred?”
Liz snorted. “Normal isn’t getting handsy with a corpse or claiming to read their memories. You have no respect for the dead.”
Emily got to her feet and mirrored her sister’s stance. “I’ve learned to accept it, why can’t you?”
“Stop it.”
Emily lowered her voice to a growl. “How does it affect you?”
With sudden clarity, Emily understood what this was really about. “Don’t you think I miss them too? I know it’s
my fault our parents were killed in that accident. You couldn’t possibly hate me more than I hate myself for it.”
“They’d still be alive if you had just stayed away.” Liz didn’t meet Emily’s gaze and her voice had lowered to a near whisper.
“I’d trade places with them if it would bring them back!” Liz opened her mouth to argue, but Emily cut her off. “Go home.”
They stared at each other in strained silence. Just once, Emily wished Liz would take on the role of sister instead of the persecutor.
“Fine. You don’t need me. You’ve got Brenda and all your buddies at that freak show.”
“They’re good people,” Emily defended. “The funeral home isn’t a freak show!”
Liz made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh. “They’re as crazy as you are! Seriously, a cleaning lady who reads tarot cards? Scott’s assistant is weird too. And your roommate? She works at an alternate lifestyle bar, for cripes sake.”
“It’s one thing to attack me, but leave my friends out of it.”
Liz’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You act like you have a rewarding career. It’s a joke, Emily. You’re a joke.”
“I’ve been through enough tonight. If you could see yourself out, I’d like to wash the blood from my hair.”
“I know what you were doing in Arizona. I chose not to say anything to Mom and Dad because it would’ve broken their hearts.” Liz stopped in the doorway with a self-satisfied smirk and a hand on her hip.
“I guess that makes you a saint.”
Liz shook her head. “I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you. I hoped you would do more with your life.”
Emily’s throat burned and her eyes welled with tears. Liz sounded just like their dad. He’d even said those same words, just before he and their mom died.
Liz tilted her head back and peered at her through lowered lashes. “You told Denise that a dead body got up and walked away. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“He did.” Emily stared at her in defiance. “They were about to kill me. He stopped them.”
Liz blanched. “You watch too many movies, little sister.”
“How would you explain a cadaver running out the back door under its own power?”
“There must have been a mistake,” Liz argued.
“Sure. The trained professionals who announced him dead on the scene were mistaken. Never mind his head was hamburger one moment and fully healed the next. It was probably just a trick of the light.”
“Fully healed?” Interest flickered in her sister’s brown eyes.
“Believe me, I regret telling your detective friend that the dead man ran away, but what else was I supposed to do? Lie?”
“There has to be a rational explanation.”
“I read him, Liz. He was good and dead.”
“Nonsense.”
“Right. It doesn’t fit in the idyllic world you’ve created for yourself. Therefore, it must be bogus. Just like the other things you can’t explain, huh? You’re so obtuse sometimes.”
Liz opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. “Can’t you at least pretend to be ordinary?”
Why was this a hot button issue with her? Most of the time, she didn’t even mention the ability or practice it. “I wish I could, but this is who I am. Until you acknowledge that, I guess we’ll always be at odds.”
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be coming around anymore.” Liz’s gaze hardened. “Don’t bother to call or drop by. I’ll be unavailable.”
“See if I care.” Emily tilted her chin up and pretended that Liz’s words didn’t sting. “And how do you know Detective Hahm anyway?”
Liz allowed a half smile. “She’s a client. I do her taxes.”
Her sister made a hasty retreat to her car and backed out of the driveway. Emily watched her taillights until they disappeared into the inky blackness. Finally, she closed the door and locked it.
“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Brenda’s arms crushed Emily in a hug. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Emily stayed in the shower until she used up all the hot water. After that, she dropped onto the faded patchwork quilt her mother had made for a long ago birthday. Now, as she lay curled in a fetal position, fear crept over her. What if something terrible crawled through the window while she slept? The guys from the mortuary could have followed her home. They might be outside the window right now watching, waiting.
Emily had never been one to let others fight her battles, but just this once she would welcome a bedside vigil from her hero, John Doe. She clutched the blanket beneath her chin and shifted her eyes in the darkness. She strained to hear each and every noise in the house, imagined or not. Her mind scrambled to grasp what was real and what wasn’t. There seemed to be a fine line that separated the two and Emily no longer knew where it began or ended.
She spied the toe tag on the nightstand where she’d left it. “John Doe,” it read. It seemed silly, but she tucked it beneath her pillow to ward off any unpleasant dreams.
Marcus made his way to the newest hideout, careful to keep to the shadows and side streets. His head was still fuzzy after everything that had happened that night.
The gate swung open, and the human guard smiled at him. Marcus walked past and ignored him. The vampires traded places with humans during the day, and it was the middle of a shift change. He wasn’t so sure the human guards, blood slaves or not, were a wise choice. Marcus wanted the werewolves to stand guard while the vampires slumbered, but Isabella didn’t want the dirty animals anywhere near her blood-clan.
Marcus entered the grand foyer. The scent of vanilla potpourri cloistered around the room. Just below it, he smelled death and despair in the form of old blood and decay.
Evan dropped what he was doing to hurry alongside him. He was all atwitter now that Marcus had returned. He tripped over the cranberry carpet and bumped into Marcus's shoulder several times. “Where have you been? Mistress is livid that you went missing.”
Evan’s voice rose to a shrill whisper. “Now you’re back and half naked. Those aren’t even your jeans!”
Marcus aimed a derisive grin at Evan's attire. He wore black dress pants, a black vest, and a ruffled, hot pink tuxedo shirt. “Are you making fun of me, Princess? You look like you stole that outfit from a colorblind drag queen.”
Evan laughed and fluffed the pale blonde hair atop his head. He struck his best pinup pose. “Do you like it?”
Marcus pinched the apple of Evan’s cheek. “You look tasty as always.”
Evan’s expression sobered, and he laid a hand against his chest. “I was worried about you, Marcus Dane. It’s nearly sunup!”
“I had a little run-in with Trent and his thugs.”
“You haven’t eaten, have you? There's a wild look in your eyes.”
“I had a snack, but just enough to keep me sane.”
This explanation proved enough to stop Evan’s chatter. “Jai Li and Corey made it back. They told her that you stayed behind to ensure they reached safety. I’m sure once she hears you’re alright, she’ll be pleased.”
Marcus snorted in displeasure. He didn’t give a rip if Isabella was pleased or otherwise.
Evan pulled at his shirt sleeves. Lord help him, he looked just like Isabella. It made sense, of course. They were related somewhere down the line. They’d searched through piles of birth and death records to deem him her great grandson – times four or so. Sometimes, even that wasn’t enough to save him from her wrath.
Uncomfortable beneath Marcus's stare, Evan took a step back. “Jai Li and Corey were in her room for a while. I listened at the door, but only heard bits and pieces. Corey said you chased the witch and got trapped.”
“She wasn’t there, but some of her lackeys were." Marcus rolled his shoulders in an effort to relieve the tension gathered there. "Trent and Pete were there too.”
Evan shook his head. “Does Isabella know the witch personally?”
“Yeah, t
hey’ve met.” Marcus kept the answer simple. In truth, it was anything but simple. He could tell Evan wanted to discuss it further, but there were some things he didn’t need to know. “Isabella has ignored the disobedience of her favorite pet and put us all in danger. Can you believe she’s forbidden me to harm him? She wants Trent brought back without a scratch.”
“Trent wouldn’t be the only one who has misbehaved.” Evan waggled a manicured finger. He followed Marcus upstairs into their shared bedroom. “We’re supposed to stay under the radar, keep to the shadows. Did you forget?”
“It’s not like I asked to get bludgeoned to death.” He slipped out of the foul stonewashed jeans and tossed them at Evan, who tried to shield himself. They smacked him in the chest then fell to the floor.
Marcus pulled clean pants from the closet. “Pete must have told Trent that we followed him. He and his crew were at the warehouse. Afterward, I got sent to the wrong place, and I’m certain it was a set up so he could finish what he started.”
“Sent where?" Evan's concern burned brightly on his face. "Who was there waiting?”
“I’m not sure. Some family owned place that I need to check out. They could be running a disposal for the witch.” Plus, it would give him an excuse to see the redhead again.
When Marcus awoke, he’d had the oddest notion that she'd looked into his mind, maybe even his soul. He couldn't explain it, but somehow she'd gotten beneath his skin. He itched to find out more.
There was something about her, something in the way she’d looked at him with those pretty green eyes. He had to see her again, even if it was from afar. God help her if she had any involvement in this.
Evan paled. “You think Starr is paying someone to get rid of your kind?”
Marcus shrugged, irritated that he came up short on answers. “That would explain some of the disappearances and the decrease in the newly turned, wouldn’t it? Even the shifters think something’s fishy. They’re a stupid bunch of animals, so if they can see it, why can’t Isabella?”
“What can we do?”
Marcus threw a hanger aside. “This is going to blow up in our faces. I think the witch will make her move soon, and Trent has aligned himself with her. I can’t even begin to imagine who else she has on her side.”
Of A Darker Nature Page 2
