Vampire (Alpha Claim 8-Final Enforcement): New Adult Paranormal Romance (Vampire Alpha Claim)

by Eros, Marata

  “No, that one is ʻactualʼ,” Smith responded.

  Things weren't looking up.

  “Okay, whatever, I'm down with that but, look at our man here,” Jonesy paused, letting his eyes fall on Alex who was cradling his arm, his glasses perched crookedly on his face. “They torched a limb, they should get their asses handed to them.” Jonesy folded his arms, looking expectant.

  Smith had to turn away to hide his expression as Gale said, “Language, Jones.”

  Garcia had regained his composure and entered back into the conversational party. “This is when you have to grow up. It's not later, it's now .”

  Bry frowned. “That sounds lecture-ish.”

  Another technical term .

  Garcia's gaze swung to Bry. “Yes, and he needs one. Take a look in the mirror when you get home. You keep hanging out with Caleb, and this is what you have to look forward to.”

  “Raul,” Gale said as Smith frowned at Garcia.

  John shot me a look, Garcia is sorta unraveling .

  Garcia struggled with his expression, finally saying, “You're on notice. I don't want to respond to another call like this one.”

  “Okay,” I said slowly.

  Jonesy who was eloquent for once. “I hope the flame-twins got ʽput on noticeʼ too.” narrowing his eyes at Garcia.

  Rage took hold of Garcia's face and then was gone. But I could feel Jade notice as she drew in a breath. The boys sharpened right up and Gale put her arm on Garcia's forearm. “Let's take off, Officer Garcia.”

  His title startled him out of some internal dark place that festered and clung to him.

  He pointed a finger at me. “Remember what I said.”

  Turning, he walked off with Gale, his head leaning next to hers as she said something to him.

  The kids waited until their cruiser pulled away. Smith stood staring after them, an expression of puzzlement standing starkly on his face.

  “What's going on with Garcia?” Sophie asked.

  I shook my head, it'd been weird. Obviously, the Fire-starter team should've had equal billing, especially if you factor in the girls getting knocked around.

  “Something's off,” John said, palming his chin.

  Smith shrugged. “Everybody can have a bad day.”

  Suddenly, we all heard a chiming sound, and Smith held out his hand and his pulse hovered in mid-air then flew into his hand.

  I thought Alex was gonna shit a green apple on the spot.

  John was trying to maintain non-drool status. Good luck with that. That pulse was worth.

  “That is a righteous pulse, dude!” Jonesy fist-pumped for emphasis.

  Alex floated over to Smith but he was busy pulsing and held a finger up, wait. Then he depressed his thumb again, then one last time. Finally, he looked at Tiff and I.

  “Okay, there's been a break in the case, I need you,” he gestured with his pulse at Tiffany (Alex's eyes tracked it like a starving animal watching a steak), “and Caleb to come with me.”

  He looked at the rest of the crew, Jonesy, Bry (and stupid Christi), John, Sophie and Jade.

  Ugh , that reminded me, I turned to her, “What about your Aunt?”

  “She's gone on some ʻwoman’s wellnessʼ thing for the weekend.”

  “Yeah, Jade was picking up her gear to come over to my place. Andrea just left,” Sophie said, her gaze traveling to the pile of gophers.

  Huh. That was a lucky break .

  Smith and I looked at the crispy critters.

  “Okay, one more sec,” he said, depressing his thumb on the pulse-pad again. Finally, he looked up. “Looks like bio-hazard will come and...” he waved a vague hand toward the gophers, “take care of them.” Smith was All That Was Guy, but I could tell Gopher Pile was over the top for him.

  He turned away from them and addressed the group, “Okay, the AFTDs will come with me. The rest of you guys: scat , to your respective digs. You got me?”

  “What about Ceci?” Jade asked.

  Smith turned, one leg in the car. “She took off with that kid,” he cupped his chin, “Carson?”

  We nodded, he was unforgettable to for all the wrong reasons.

  I turned to Jade. “We can talk later?”

  She nodded. The silence clung to us with the weight of unsaid things. The number one being: Why was she talking to Brett? He kept proving his lack of worth all over the place. I frowned; just thinking about it—put me in a crappy mood. We hadn't resolved anything.

  Jade took her thumb, smoothing out the furrow that had appeared between my eyes. Her smile took some of the sting out of leaving her.

  I looked at Sophie, “Jade's going with you now?” she nodded.

  Jonesy broke in, “Calm down, Hart, you can see her this weekend.”

  I was a total blank.

  “Isn't Mac having that thing at the lake house?” John asked.

  That's right! I forgot about it. Every year for Labor Day, Gramps would do a huge BBQ and all the friends could hang.

  I nodded, grinning, a built-in day of fun with the friends and the last bang before summer slid into fall. Nice.

  Jonesy said, “Yeah, Memorial Day is worthless but at least we don't have to go to lame school.”

  Christi/Barbie rolled her eyes (of course). “It's Labor Day, doofus.”

  His eyes narrowed on her. “So how does that change a day off from school?” he said with typical Jonesy-logic.

  Alex said, “He kinda has you there.”

  She crossed her arms and huffed off deeper into the yard and Bry followed her, trying to sooth her ruffled feathers.

  The Js and I looked after them. “I couldn't go out with someone like that,” John said.

  I nodded, duh.

  Jonesy said, “I could.”

  Alex and the rest of us said in unison, “How?”

  “Ear plugs,” he replied.

  Sophie slugged him in the arm.

  “Hey!” he said, rubbing his arm.

  “Girls have important things to say!” Sophie yelled.

  Jade's eyebrows arched. “Her?”

  Sophie looked after Christi, who had her finger in Bry's chest, berating him, the burnished red of her hair catching the light, her hotness paling before her behavior.

  “Not so much.” Sophie relented.

  Jonesy held up his hands like, see what I'm talkinʼ about. I guess Sophie had been trying to do the “stick-up-for-the-girl-thing.” But who could support a troll in a beauty queen's body?

  She needed to find a new bridge to live under. Like anywhere but Kent.

  “Come on, kids. Let's book,” Smith said impatiently.

  I hauled Jade over to me and laid one on her mouth. (I'd have liked to do more.) But I wasn't about the supreme PDA With an Adult Present.

  She giggled and tried to push me away and I squeezed her tighter.

  Tiff said, “Can I sit in the front?” eying how gross the back seat was.

  “Nope, keep Caleb company in the back, why dontcha?” Smith said.

  Nice.

  I released Jade, letting my hand slide down her arm, our fingers parting like reluctant taffy.

  “Hey Bry!” Tiff yelled indelicately and he turned to her like , are you kidding? I'm talking down the girlfriend... a little help!

  Apparently that fine detail was lost on siblings. “Supper's at six!” she said, emphasizing it with a nice slam of the car door.

  Bry's shoulders slumped and Barbie continued. He was back to square one.

  I hopped in next to her, closing my door and said, “That was helpful.”

  She grinned. “I'm on a full frontal assault with that chick.”

  Smith looked at her in the rear view mirror. “Isn't that your brother?” he asked, carefully backing out.

  I gave the Js the thumb signal to pulse me, John nodded and Jonesy gave me a good natured middle finger salute. Perfect.

  I looked through the dirty glass until Jade's face disappeared and turned to the conversation at hand.

&n
bsp; “Yeah, but ever since he started dating that bonehead girl?” Tiff shrugged.

  “Let me tell you my theory,” Smith said.

  We waited.

  “She isn't that stupid.”

  We opened our mouths to protest, and Smith shook his head to silence us. “It's been my experience that someone as irritating as her—well—it's a skill . You have to be somewhat smart to have that particular skill set. You may have more than you bargained for with her.”

  No shit.

  Tiff humphed, crossing her arms. She wasn't gonna give up that easily. “And, on top of that, her brother is a Fire-starter and is friends with that mouth breather, Carson.”

  “Brody?” Smith asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “So, it stands to reason that they're related.” We sat there, mulling it over.

  “Brett and Carson don't need to add any IQ to their gang. Them being stupid was the best thing we had going for us,” I said.

  Smith's eyes met mine in the mirror. Something to be aware of , his look told me.

  Right, gotcha .

  “Anyway,” Smith began, carefully pulling into the parking stall closest to the police station. He turned to look at us, “One of the lead forensics just pulsed on my secure thread.” Excitement lit his face, and I was momentarily blinded by what he said next, “They have sampled enough tissue and determined what links the childrensʼ deaths.”

  We leaned forward, what could it be?

  “They were all Nulls.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  We were in a dim little room with a rectangular, Formica-surfaced table, stale crackers and CFC-free Styrofoam cups littered its surface.

  The lead forensic, Sam Buckley, tried to explain his findings. “Of course, it wasn't the first thing we looked for. But, as we became more proficient in excluding the obvious, we started looking for the zebras.”

  How do zoo animals come into all this?

  Buckley sighed as he took in my puzzled expression.

  Tiff was deep into biting her nails, her eyes flitting around the dingy corners of the room, so bored that weeping was the next step.

  “In med school they told us, ʻ When you hear hoof beats, it's probably a horse, not a zebraʼ. This is what we did in this case. We had all these children, viciously dispatched. But for what reason? That's when we started running the DNA analysis. Our forensic geneticist,” I rolled my eyes at this and he gave me arched brows, “found the anomaly right away.”

  Smith held his chin in his hand, thinking. “One thing that doesn't make sense.” He looked at Buckley. “That one victim, Mason's brother, he was killed a decade ago. How could he be classified as a Null, now ?”

  Buckley looked at me for a heartbeat. “When Dr. Hart and his team mapped the genome, well... that was the determining factor. Those kids are gone, but they were predestined to be Nulls. We have the technology to identify that marker. Their deaths don't negate the inevitability of their ability. We have someone targeting Nulls.”

  That made no sense.

  Smith was nodding, pacing around in a large circle in the room, Buckley tracking his nervous tension as he walked it off. “Someone would have to know these kids were Nulls. How?” Smith said, turning to Buckley.

  Buckley shrugged, responding. “That's not my area, I just report the findings and offer my speculative opinion based on the science of it all.”

  Smith stopped pacing. “What do you think , though? As an opinion.”

  Buckley stood there, his lab coat rumpled, his bald head gleaming under the old, now-illegal (think grandfathered) florescent lighting.

  “I'd have to say that it's an insider.”

  “Wait a sec. If the first victim, Brett's brother, would've been what, four?” I asked.

  Smith nodded.

  I was on the edge of a revelation. “It would be someone at the school.”

  Buckley shook his head. “ No . I was thinking law enforcement or maybe government.”

  Certainly the government sucked eggs but it didn't feel right for this. It didn't fit.

  Smith scrubbed his face. “Okay, I think it's obvious that it's an insider. Someone that either one—had access to confidential records or two—had someone identifying the paranormals.”

  The men stood there in contemplative silence, and I was circling around the answer when Tiff threw in, “Aura Reader, brainiacs.”

  Aura Reader.

  Smith's smile broke across his face, snapping his fingers and turning to Tiff like he'd hug her.

  “No touchy,” she said, warding him off with a hand.

  “Right,” he said.

  “Okay, I'm going to pulse Gale and Garcia and report this,” he said as his hover-pulse floated to his hand.

  I didn't think I'd ever get used to the hover feature. Judging by Tiff's face, she felt the same.

  Buckley was oblivious, thumbing our conversation onto his pulse-pad. “Okay, you kids,” he glanced our way. “You should be looking at Nulls as targets, all Nulls. This criminal has most likely been doing this since the first of the paranormal markers were labeled. Why are they after Nulls?” he shook his head.

  John.

  Panic gripped me and as I looked at Tiff, knowledge bloomed like a horrible flower on her face. “John,” she breathed out.

  John would be a target, John was in danger.

  “Smith!” I yelled.

  Tiff came to stand beside me.

  Startled, he looked up from his pulsing.

  “My friend. My friend, John Terran—he's a Null.”

  Smith stopped pulsing.

  “We need to get over there. Now,” I said.

  He shook his head. “These began with older deaths, Caleb. There isn't sufficient evidence to indicate that it's the same killer. Except, of course, they were all Nulls.”

  Yeah.

  Buckley looked at him. “I think Caleb may be right. Just because this is what we've found, thus far,” he shook his head, “it might mean that the killer has found another site.”

  “What site?” Tiff asked.

  “Another burial site,” Buckley said.

  Oh my God. There were possibly more?

  “You're right; we can't assume this guy is done. He may be actively taking out Nulls.” Smith gave me his attention. “We'll go by Terran's house, okay? First, I need to tell Gale to go back five years on missing kids reports, see if there are others and try to make a connection on Null manifestation discovery and subsequent disappearance.”

  “Well, get hot. I mean, John is busy at his house doing some tech-love with Alex, and doesn't know some creeper is smelling blood in the water.”

  “Shark,” Tiff said.

  Yeah, that .

  “Aren't his folks home?” Smith asked.

  “Yeah, but they're like one hundred and five,” Tiff said.

  “Really?” Smith's eyebrows raised to his hairline.

  Tiff gave a hard eye roll. “Aren't you the cop here? No. They're not really that old, but they're ancient.”

  John's folks were older than Gramps. “I guess they could do a fair job of bludgeoning with their canes,” I said.

  Buckley laughed. “Well, maybe your sense of humor will stay intact as you visit the next burial site.”

  “You're saying that like it's an absolute, Sam,” Smith said.

  He nodded his head. “I've seen this type of death rampage before, and this brand of killer continues until he's shut down. They don't want to stop. There is some kind of compulsion. They feel they're doing some kind of service for the ʻgreater goodʼ,” he finished, his hands falling from the airquotes.

  “Could it be a girl?” Tiff asked suddenly.

  Buckley shrugged, but it was Smith who answered, “Typically, serial killers are almost always men.”

  “From the evidence I have, it would have taken a formidable woman to execute these murders.”

  Smith gave him the look. I knew what that stood for: watch it, these guys are just kids.

&nbs
p; Buckley hesitated, nodding to Smith. “Listen, you guys brought these teens in on this, they're old enough to know the details.”

  Smith sighed.

  Buckley gave his full attention to us. “The perpetrator separated, in all but two of the deaths, the cervical vertebrae,” he reached to show Tiff on her neck and she backed away.

  He shrugged and put a finger on me instead, it gave me the flesh crawl. “Here, at C-7 and here, at C-6. That separation caused immediate paralysis and then the blunt force trauma was administered,” he paused, “causing death.” His hand slowly lowered and he made eye contact with us.

  Tiff and I were quiet, thinking about an adult that felt they were somehow doing something right by killing those children.

  “Okay, enough. I'm taking the kids by their friend's house. And,” Smith's slight frown was aimed at Buckley, “Gale will be slogging through the missing personsʼ reports. We should have some commonality soon, if there's any to be found.”

  The men shook hands. Smith jerked his head at the door, and we moved out.

  Tiff gave a last look at Buckley. He was worth a stare. After all, he spent more time with the dead than the living.

  My kind of dude.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  We stood awkwardly at John's front door, waiting for a parent (or way-better, John himself) to answer.

  No luck. John's mom peeked out from behind the doorway, saw it was me and opened the door. “Why, Caleb, it's a pleasure to see you again,” she said, sweeping her hand in front of me.

  Smith and Tiff trailed in after us.

  I was always super-nervous at John's house. One great reason was the plastic on the furniture. Mom would have done back flips with the petrochemical off-gassing on that.

  The thought brought a smile to my face. John's parents were über-tight-ass adults. I think she dusted fifteen times a day. John's room looked like Teen Museum to me. I sighed, this would take some thinkinʼ on my part.

  Just then Alex and John came out of John's bedroom. Alex's glasses still hung by a broken thread on his face and the arm wrapped in the gauze with a sling. John gave me The Look: what's up ?

  Oh nothing, pal. Just some psycho with a hard-on for Nulls. Nothing special. Out loud I said, “We've had a break in the case.”

  Smith stepped up beside me. “Maybe we could sit down somewhere,” he said, eying the yards of plastic with trepidation.