Table of Contents
Excerpt
Praise for Cheryel Hutton
Blood of the Innocent
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
“I’m sorry. I was coming out here to ask what you take in your coffee.”
“I prefer black.” He couldn’t resist reaching out to touch the silky blonde hair that flowed down her back all the way to her perfectly shaped ass. He could get lost just looking at her. What would it be like to hold her close, to kiss her until she melted in his arms? To touch her, taste her, feel her beneath him?
She shot to her feet and backed away from him. “What are you thinking?”
He shrugged. “I’m thinking about the beautiful woman beside me.”
Her hand was trembling as she put it over her heart. “But I’m vampire and you’re—”
“A man.” He rose to his feet and went to her. Her gorgeous sea green eyes widened, but she stood waiting for him.
He slid one hand under her hair, the other around her waist, then nudged her toward him. Sure she’d resist, he was shocked when she leaned against him.
His lips touched her warm, firm, perfect mouth, and he heard himself groan. Then her arms wrapped around his neck, and a soft sigh shot heat straight to his loins.
She leaned into him, and her soft curves fit against him in all the right places. His body hardened, while his thinking processes blurred. He had to have this woman; he had to be inside her. He needed her as much as he needed his next breath.
All at once an image of Justin lying cold and dead on the rocky shoreline rushed into his mind. He shoved Veronica away.
Praise for Cheryel Hutton
“All in all, KEEPERS OF LEGEND was a fun little story with a deeper message. Cheryel Hutton has a nice writing style, and I hope to read a longer story by her.”
~Ricki, Bitten by Books (3 Stars)
~*~
“As I finished reading KEEPERS OF LEGEND I had one wish; I would have loved the story to go on longer. There was huge potential for the story to continue with its tale of dragons and love. This is not to say KEEPERS OF LEGEND wasn’t a finished tale. It most definitely was, but I was left with a yearning for more of the tale of Simon and his human friends.”
~Orchid, Long and Short Reviews (4.5 Books)
~*~
“This is the second book in a series. I didn’t realize this was the case when I requested it, but I had no problem at all getting caught up on the most important details of previous events within a chapter or two. It can definitely be read as a standalone work, and that made me happy. SECRETS OF UGLY CREEK is a good choice for anyone who likes science fiction whose setting is completely humdrum and ordinary.”
~Astilbe, Long and Short Reviews (3 Stars)
Blood of the Innocent
by
Cheryel Hutton
The Lobster Cove Series
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Blood of the Innocent
COPYRIGHT © 2015 by Cheryel Hutton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Debbie Taylor
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com
Publishing History
First Black Rose Edition, 2015
Print ISBN 978-1-5092-0408-3
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-0409-0
The Lobster Cove Series
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
To my wonderful daughters, Amanda and Carrie
(in alphabetical order).
Thank you, both of you, for being so supportive.
Love you two!
Chapter 1
The sweet, tangy smell of blood filled the night air, and Veronica took a moment to enjoy the scent before she shoved the feeling into the recesses of her mind. It wouldn’t do for the humans to see hunger in her face.
As soon as she was sure she was in control, she turned from where she’d pulled her Lexus behind a marked police car. A breeze off Frenchman Bay brushed over her and she heard the soft roar of waves battering the rocky shore. Just above the rocks, where there was still soil and foliage, an artificially lighted spot churned with uniformed police.
As she’d expected, one of the Bar Harbor police officers stepped toward her. “Sorry, you can’t go any farther.”
“I’m expected,” she told him, holding out her credentials. “I’m a consultant for the FBI.”
The officer, who wasn’t much taller than she was, glanced at the badge, then back at her face. “We don’t get a lot of murders here, but we can handle them when we do.”
She didn’t blame him for being hesitant. “I’m not an agent. Like I said, I’m here as a consultant.”
“Like I said, nobody told me.”
She was just about to convince the officer, when a familiar woman approached them. Veronica let out a relieved sigh. “Hello, Pat.”
The tall, warm-skinned human wore a long, yellow dress draped gracefully over one shoulder, a pair of beat-up sneakers, and purple latex gloves. Even in eveningwear, there was no missing the authority emanating from the formidable Pat Hutchins. “Let her through, dumbass.” Pat glared at the officer.
Pat led Veronica through a line of tall pines, down a steep stone wall, and onto a rocky shore. The ubiquitous Maine fog thickened with every passing moment, reflecting back the harsh lights used to pierce the darkness. Veronica had no problem moving over the jutting and slick rocks. While trying to look like she couldn’t see her way any better than anyone else, she kept an eye out for any difficulties her human friend had. The Maine-born coroner was used to the terrain, and the fog, so Veronica’s vigilance was unneeded. “So you were at a formal event when they called you?”
“I actually dared go to the opera with a couple of friends. You think I’d know better.”
“Sorry, Pat. You deserved the night off.”
She sighed. “Isn’t that the truth.”
About two-thirds of the way to the lapping waves, the body of a human male sprawled over the rocks. One arm lay across the man’s chest, the other to the side, as if he was reaching for help while he died.
The body, she’d guess the age to be early thirties, was the source of the blood smell. His throat had been sliced open, resulting in splatter over his face, body, the rocks around him, and presumably his attacker.
Still, even though the gory substance covered the man’s neck, chest, and rocks around him, she was sure it wasn’t the huge amount that would be lost in seconds when both carotid arteries were severed. He’d have lost much more.
“He appears to have only been dead a couple of hours,” Pat said.
Veronica nodded at the verification of what she already knew, what she’d been fearful of since
Pat had texted her. The man was the victim of one of her kind. As if to confirm the facts, a slight movement of air filled her nose with the fading scent of one of her own. “Damn.”
“I was correct in my assessment?”
Veronica nodded. “Thanks for calling me.”
“Are you kidding, I need your help on this.”
“You know I’ll do all I can.” She looked into her friend’s concerned eyes. She couldn’t blame Pat. She was worried herself.
“I want to see him!”
Veronica looked toward the shout to see a man pull away from the uniformed officers and stumble toward them. As he moved through the gray wall of fog, he looked so much like the dead man, it almost seemed as if the body had come to life. Same dark hair, long legs, broad shoulders. Pat stepped toward the man. “Sir, you need—”
He sidestepped the medical examiner’s reach, falling to one knee as he did. It only took him a heartbeat to get back to his feet and continue his stumbling trek across the rocky shore toward Veronica. She could have stopped him, but that would provoke questions she couldn’t answer. Besides, she understood his need to see and understand. Holding him back would just cause him more pain.
The man got a good look at the body and jerked to a stop. “Justin. No!” the horror-filled words were nothing compared to the anguish on his face.
He lunged toward the body, and this time she did stop him. “I can’t let you contaminate the scene,” she told him.
“That’s my brother!”
“I’m so sorry.” Pat said, as she came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.
He closed his eyes, and leaned over to put his hands on his thighs, like a runner with a cramp. Veronica thought he might collapse, but he got hold of himself and straightened his back. “What happened?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” Pat told him.
The man groaned. “He can’t be dead. He can’t.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pat said again. “Now please go and let us do our job.”
His head and shoulders dropped as if deflated. A uniformed cop took the man’s arm and escorted him back past the line of pine trees.
“Poor guy,” Pat said. “Losing his brother like that. Apparently his twin brother too.”
“Looks that way,” Veronica agreed, before they both turned back to their work.
Sitting on her heels beside the body, she swiped the all but invisible second, smaller cut just below the almost ear-to-ear slash across the victim’s throat. She inserted the swab into a sterile vial, sealed and labeled it, then took another sample from the other side of the longer gash, put the second swab in another vial, and labeled that one too.
“I can get you an uncontaminated sample of the victim’s blood.”
Veronica smiled at the woman. “Thank you. That would be very helpful.”
“Sure. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
Samples taken, pictures shot, notes written, Veronica stood. “I’ll get out of your way. Good luck with your investigation.”
“Keep me in the loop.”
“Will do.” Her stomach twisted with the obligation to lie, to hold information back from a person she liked and admired—and who needed every shred of data she could get to solve a murder. Not that the police had any hope of catching the killer. The perpetrator of this crime wasn’t human.
Veronica smiled at her friend, then turned and headed deftly across the rocks toward her car. As she climbed the steep slope toward the line of pines at the top, a crime scene van pulled in. Several evidence specialists gathered equipment in anticipation of working the area. She sighed, hopeful they would find something useful, though she knew they wouldn’t.
A contingent of uniformed police officers and a couple of detectives in plain clothes stood restlessly at the place where the rocks became a steep incline down to the beach. “We don’t need Feds sticking their noses in our local business,” one of the officers said. The guy who’d stopped her earlier stood nearby glaring.
Veronica included both men in her gaze. “I’m only a consultant. You have nothing to worry about.”
“Consultant on what?”
“I’m a biochemist working on variations in blood. I look for unusual characteristics as a way of identifying suspects.” The memorized spiel was just close enough to the truth to be believable. She hoped.
The closer officer rubbed his chin. “Sounds experimental.”
“It is, right now. In a few years it’ll probably be standard procedure.” If the higher-ups on both sides of the human-vampire line took politics out of the equation and thought about the bigger picture.
“You go right ahead and play with your test tubes. Just stay the hell out of our way. Understand?”
“Perfectly.” She gave him a sarcastic smile, and he narrowed his eyes.
Either feeling he’d made his point, or that she was hopeless, he turned and headed toward the body. Veronica ignored the other cops and walked away as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. Every passing moment brought sunrise closer, and she needed to get home before she got into real trouble.
The sound of footsteps behind her sent twinges of irritation up her spine. All she wanted to do was go home, where she was safe from the sun, and relax. Maybe if she ignored whoever was behind her he’d go away.
“So you work for the FBI?”
It was the victim’s brother. Damn, she couldn’t just tell the man to get lost. He was in a lot of emotional pain—she could feel it washing over her like a wave of icy water. She looked at him. “Only as a consultant.”
“Why does the FBI need a consultant on my brother’s murder?”
“It’s not this case in particular.”
“Then why aren’t the police accustomed to you being around.”
She should have realized this would be difficult. A glance at the sky told her she treaded dangerous waters. Why was it she had thought it was a good idea to move to the place that received the first taste of sunrise every morning? “I don’t have time to explain right now. Why don’t you check with the coroner later?”
“And let you vanish into the Federal ether?
“I live in Lobster Cove. I’ll be around.” She got into her car, only to find a male hand holding the top of the door. Not that she couldn’t close it anyway, but that would cause problems she didn’t have time to deal with. Reaching into her purse, she pulled out a small notebook and scribbled down her cell number. She shoved the small sheet of paper at the man. “Now let me go, I’m late for an appointment.”
He took the paper and stepped back. She hadn’t turned her car around before her phone rang. “Teal.”
“Just wanted to make sure you gave me your real number.”
She glared in her rearview as she clicked off her cell. This dude would be a thorn in her side if she wasn’t careful. That didn’t matter right now, though. All that mattered was getting home before the sun became dangerous.
By the time she’d parked her car and raced up the walkway toward the sunny yellow, renovated Georgian style house, her face and hands tingled. She flung open the front door, rushed inside, and ran for the staircase.
Careful to avoid any sun’s rays that peeked through the big first floor window and onto the steps, she tore into her apartment and shut the solid wooden door behind her. With a sigh of relief, she went to the specially coated window in her living room. From the safety of her own space, she stood at the little round table in front of the window and watched the sun rise over the horizon. The tops of her hands and her face stung. She looked down at the reddened areas on her hands, and thought about how just a few more minutes would have meant severe damage, and the need for medical care. A few more after that, and the burns would be life-threatening. The consequences of sunlight for a vampire.
Her thoughts turned to the dead man on the Bar Harbor shore, and his distraught brother. He thought he could get answers from her, but her role in the death was almost finished
. Once she ran the samples and turned the results over to the Guardians, she’d probably never know anything more.
Not knowing had never bothered her before, but today she found herself wondering about the events that had led up to the human’s demise. What was the name his brother had used? Justin, that was it. Similar to justice. Would Justin get justice? Would his brother ever know if he did?
As she turned toward a long, hot soak in the tub, another question tugged at her. What would Justin’s brother think if he knew his twin had been killed by a being whose kind had spawned legends? And that the woman he looked to for answers was one of them. Creatures dependent on human blood for survival. Feared and hated through history. Hunter and hunted.
Vampire.
Chapter 2
Joe Sullivan’s hand shook as he inserted the key and twisted the knob, but when he tried to open the door it wouldn’t budge. For a moment he had a powerful urge to kick the damn thing in.
When he managed to get hold of himself, he twisted the key in the opposite direction. The knob turned. Maybe he’d been wrong about the direction, but he’d heard the lock click. The truth smacked him hard. The door had been unlocked. Dreading what he’d find, he pushed the door open.
From where he stood, he could see his brother’s apartment was a wreck. Books, papers, photos, even couch cushions, covered the floor. Through the open door into the bedroom, he could see clothing hanging from open drawers, and the bare mattress where it stood propped against the wall.
Joe closed his eyes for a moment in an effort to contain the anger roaring inside him. The knowledge that Justin would never walk in the door again was bad enough, but the idea of strangers digging through his brother’s things flared a need to beat the shit out of somebody. Anybody.
He had only been to this apartment twice, once to help Justin move in, and then again almost a year ago. Maine and Tennessee were over a thousand miles from each other, which made it harder to fit visits into their busy schedules.
Busy schedules! Damn it to hell. If he’d only looked beyond how busy he was and made an effort, maybe his brother wouldn’t be lying bloody and cold on a beach far away from home.
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