by Debra Dunbar
The hero worship in his eyes flickered, a flame too strong to snuff with one good blow. I would have to try harder next time, hit lower, if I wanted to nip this in the bud. He flipped open a notebook and read the pertinent details. “Tourist. Visiting from Wyoming. Thirty-five. Single. Her daughter booked her on a singles cruise. A snorkeling excursion package kept her on the island overnight. The ship reported her missing when she failed to board this morning. Local cop with a fae wife was first to respond and called in reinforcements from the conclave outpost next island over.”
The next island over was Nevis. I had been reassigned there after my release from Edelweiss, which begged the question, “You’re stationed there too?” I crossed my arms over my chest in a protective gesture. Guess he wasn’t the only one with a thing for shields. “I haven’t seen you around.”
Taking a page from my book, he ignored the semi-personal question and continued. “This is the second incident involving exsanguination this week. Locals are, understandably, concerned. When news of these murders leak, and tourists start booking elsewhere, the islands are going to take a hit in the wallet.”
“God forbid a case be about loss of life and not their bottom line,” I grumbled.
Jones quirked his lips like he wanted to be amused but his pride still stung from me shutting him down earlier.
I tapped my fingertips against my elbows. “What do we know about the first victim?”
“She was a local girl. Early twenties.” He pointed toward the lush, tropical forest at our backs. “She was found about a half mile in by a group of tourists out for a hike up Mount Liamuiga.”
I mulled over the details as I knew them. “So, no obvious link between the two other than gender.”
“I see why they pay you the big bucks,” he quipped. “Anything else?”
“Other than the obvious?” I lowered my voice. “Are there any vampires on the island?”
“Other than you?” He made it a pointed question.
“I’m a dhampir, as you must know if your report earned you a passing grade.” My fangs were blunt, tiny. Barely more than human. I couldn’t pierce skin unless aroused, which was humiliating when you consider I basically had to get a dental erection before proceeding as nature intended. Hence the blood bags. It saved me from giving donors an It’s not you, it’s me speech every time my stomach rumbled and I couldn’t get them up. Or down. Whatever. “I’ve spotted a couple of transients.” Vamps clearly on vacation. “But no covey that indicates a stable local population.”
Since vamps tended toward immortality, and that included reinventing their identities every fifty years or so, it made tracking rogues hell on law enforcement. We were in deep trouble if a transient was to blame. Islands were harder to lock down than you might think with easy access to planes and boats.
“There is no covey registered to St. Kitts or Nevis. Too much sun, or so they claim.”
Or there was a bigger bad here that shared the same food source. Not a comforting thought.
Thanks to my fae mom, I didn’t go whoosh when exposed to sunlight. Though, thanks to my vamp dad, no application of sunscreen, no matter how judicious, could save me from blistering. Still, the lure of a steady and varied fresh-food supply was sweet temptation compared to the risk of sun exposure, a danger present regardless of location. There had to be another reason for the absence of vamps than fear of incineration.
Jones was still looking at me, waiting for brilliance to tumble out of my mouth, so I stated the obvious. “Odds are good we’re looking at a transient vamp or a species of blood-dependent fae.”
“Looks that way,” he agreed with a few swipes of his pen on paper.
“Do we have a list of suspects?” I prodded, wishing I could snatch that notebook out of his hands.
“We do.” His gaze flicked up to me. “But, just so you know, the locals believe it’s a chupacabra.”
“Do y’all have those here?” I wondered. “I thought they originated in Puerto Rico. Though the illegal pet trade is booming in port cities, so there is that.”
“They aren’t native, and there have been no verified sightings. I checked before you got here.”
Lips twisting as I considered all the information, I squatted beside the body and performed a quick examination. The bite marks, two perfect, circular punctures, were textbook vampire. The woman hadn’t otherwise been harmed. There were no signs of sexual assault, as often happened with forced feedings, or bruising. Meaning whatever had done this had used a lure and lulled her into complacency. I found myself feeling relieved that she had, most likely, died peacefully. Still, it was a brutal way to go.
“Ma’am?” Jones asked after a while.
I ignored him at first because the ma’am was distancing and annoying, but also because I had almost grasped a nascent understanding before his polite query derailed my thought train.
“I need to see the other body.” I rose and cast my gaze across the beach at the techs gathering evidence, snapping pictures and otherwise laying the groundwork required to snag a conviction. “Who can make that happen?”
Jones pocketed his notebook and withdrew a set of keys. “That would be me.”
“Great.” I kept my tone neutral. “I’ll need a hotel while I’m here. Nothing touristy. Got any suggestions?”
“Already handled.” A sparkle touched his eyes, and his cheek dented. “I took the liberty of reserving you a room across from mine. It will make late-night powwows easier on us both.”
I just bet it would.
Chapter 2
First things first, we hit the morgue operated by the Earthen Conclave, the supernatural equivalent of Homeland Security, an organization tasked with maintaining order between the fae and the humans unaware of our existence.
The attendant, a young woman with cornflower-blue eyes that drank in the sight of Jones with appreciation and curly blond hair she twirled around a finger, didn’t remove her earbuds when she noted our approach, when we signed in, or when we asked to be shown the victim’s body. So, I was surprised when she managed to pull out the correct drawer. I was equally surprised when she didn’t trip in the puddle of drool stringing from the corner of her mouth.
Once she returned to her desk, I hooked a thumb in her direction. “You have a fan club, I see.”
Though, fae being fae, she might have thought he looked delicious in an altogether different way than I—
No. I did not find him delicious. Aching fangs or not. He was a coworker, younger than me by decades, and therefore off the menu.
“I’m not the only one,” he shot back, a grin in his voice and admiration that extended beyond my record in his heated gaze.
My nape prickled, and I glanced away first, causing him to chuckle. He had won that round, and he knew it. Smug really shouldn’t look so good on him.
Leaning over the body, I spotted the punctures in the same vicinity as the new victim’s injuries. Nude, she showed no signs of bruising or defensive wounds. Again, I couldn’t shake the feeling the holes were vamp made. Growing up around vampires, you get an education in all the varieties of marks left from feedings. This one fit the mold of a vampire using a lure to calm a victim as he drank her down. But two bodies drained in less than forty-eight hours? That was a lot of blood for one vampire.
A pungent scent wafted up to me, and I bent down, sniffing near the wounds. Wrinkling my nose, I recoiled at the dried remnants of saliva from the worst case of halitosis I had ever had the bad fortune to cross. “The wounds have been swabbed for DNA?”
“Yep. The second victim may not yield much considering her time in the water.” He cocked his head, that blasted pencil hovering over his notebook like a reporter preparing for an interview. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “None of it fits. Yet.”
He put away his notebook and nodded. “Where’s your next stop?”
“Are you…?” I gestured between us. “Are we partners on this case
?”
“I wish.” He caught himself, flushed, and my gut tightened. “What I mean is that you’re lead, and I cashed in every favor owed me to be your gofer.”
“When you say things like that,” I admitted, “I feel like I ought to burst into song and dance to make the price of admission worth your while.”
“You don’t dance.” He ducked his head. “At least not that I’ve read.”
Not wanting to enter his personal space, I ventured a step closer and cleared my throat. “Jones, you seem like a smart kid—”
“I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-eight.”
Meaning I was two decades and change older than him even if I could still pass for mid-thirties.
“—but you have to realize you talking about me like I’m a science project come to life makes me uncomfortable.” I risked a light touch on his elbow, and he blasted out a sharp breath like I’d punched him, eyes wide on that point of contact. “Don’t fling quotes at me. Get to know me, the real me. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And don’t call me ma’am.” It was one thing to know I was his senior. Another to have him toss it in my face. “Call me Lena. Everyone does back home.”
Or they did until I spent a few months drugged out of my gourd and wearing pink scrubs to bed.
“Lena,” he said, testing the name like I had given him a gift.
I gestured toward the corpse. “Can you get me a copy of her case file?”
“I have one in my trunk.” Another flash of dimples creased his cheek. “I’m all about anticipating your needs.”
Suddenly, my mouth went dry, and my gums sensitized. Horror snapped my budding fangs back into place, but Jones had noticed me having some kind of reaction. His pulse hadn’t leveled since that touch but— Damn it. I hadn’t moved my hand off him yet. I snatched it back, fingertips chilling in the cool air of the morgue.
“I should—” I didn’t bother finishing, just started walking and left him to follow. I thanked the blonde on my way out, but it was Jones she told “You’re welcome. Come back anytime.” Like a morgue was a frickin’ pickup bar.
After an internal shake, I brushed off my annoyance. Jones giving me a stiffy wasn’t his fault, and that didn’t entitle me to anything. Not even irritation at the blonde sliding her number into his pocket in plain sight.
I hotfooted it back to his car, and I was waiting there when he pulled a folded paper from his pocket and crumpled what must have been the attendant’s number. He held my gaze as he tossed it in the trash bin on the curb.
We got in, and I waited until our seat belts had clicked before saying, “You didn’t have to do that on my account.” I glimpsed the phone in his hand. “Unless you already entered her number into your phone?”
He laughed at me, softly, a trait that was beginning to irritate. “You don’t trust easy, do you?”
“No.” When you’ve stared death in the eye and he winked at you… “I don’t.”
“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Can you take me to the hotel?” Voice tight with things remembered, I turned to face the window. “I’d like to do a little digging online and read over the case file.”
“Your wish,” he said, gently this time. “My command.”
Chapter 3
The case file surrendered no new clues. A quick Google of local legends didn’t point me in a firm direction either. I searched chupacabras on the conclave’s secure database and learned more about the cryptids than I ever wanted to know. The name literally translated to “goat-sucker.” Proof they drank blood, but it was a big leap from goats and livestock to humans. Even more damning was the lack of evidence they used lures on their victims. No way had the victims been docile while a spiny-backed monster fed on them without some form of coercion involved.
The conclave had beefed up patrols in the area where the bodies had been discovered, but I got a sick feeling we wouldn’t unravel this fast enough to stop our killer from claiming a third victim.
A flurry of knocks startled me to attention. I shut down my laptop then rose and peeked through the peephole. Jones. In civvies. A button-down shirt open to reveal a swath of throat. Nice jeans. Casual but dressy. He wore the outfit well. So well it hit me that his earlier polish must have been to impress me. I opened the door a crack and kept my gaze from wandering. “Did you need something?”
He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Want to join me for dinner?”
My heart flip-flopped. “That sounds like a—”
“Great idea.” Those damn dimples flashed. “I thought so too.”
“We’re working a case together.” I strove for professionalism. “This—me and you—the flirting. It can’t happen.”
“Fraternization laws don’t apply.” He rocked back on his heels. “Technically, you’re from a different division than me. We might both be on loan to the same outpost, but this is a temporary assignment. That gives us wiggle room.”
I wet my lips. “You’ve thought about this.”
He shrugged. “You did your research, I did mine.”
“Is this because of your dissertation? Are you some kind of psycho stalker?” I wracked my brain for an answer that made sense. “You’re not a warg, are you? Your people don’t believe in those predestined mates, do they?”
“Maybe a little, I hope not, no, and it’s complicated.”
Uh-oh. “How complicated?”
“I’m an elf.” He glanced both ways down the hall then released the glamour I hadn’t realized he was wearing. He thumped one of his gently pointed ears. “We’re betrothed in the cradle. My people grow up knowing who their future spouse will be, so every attempt is made to encourage attachment prior to the final bonding.”
Relief and a pulse of an undefinable emotion zinged through me. “So, you’re engaged?”
His glamour snapped back into place. “Would I be here asking you to dinner if I was?”
“I’ve known you for eight hours. You can’t possibly expect me to know the answer.”
“Fair point.” He huffed out a breath. “Okay, so I’m not an elf so much as I’m half elf and half human.” His hands fisted in his pants. “Elves are particular about bloodlines. Having a human father meant not even my mother, a high regent, could arrange for a match. If no such agreement is reached by a child’s first year of life, they’re considered banes. Outcasts.” Another shrug drew up his shoulders. “So, you’re safe from any predestined mating with me.”
A sense of kinship blossomed in me, and I found myself admitting, “I get that. Vamps are particular about lineage too. Life, food, legacy. It’s all about blood for them.” Hope sparkled in his expression, and I cursed under my breath, which caused his lips to twitch. “Fine. I’ll eat dinner with you, but only because I’m hungry.” I jutted out my chin. “You’re too young for me.”
“Have you ever considered that, being half vampire, you’re close to immortal? At some point, most everyone will be younger than you. You’ll have to start cradle robbing eventually. Why not practice on me?”
“Out.” I shooed him into the hall and changed into a floral sundress. Not because I wanted to look nice for him, but because it was a balmy night and the ocean breeze would feel good on my skin. Ten minutes later, I was ready to go and locked up my room behind me. “Where did you have in mind?”
His eyes sparkled with mischief. “I read that—”
I released an audible groan.
This was a mistake. A huge lapse in judgment. I was in the middle of a case. And Jones, who had yet to see north of thirty, was nursing a crush on a fictional representation of me.
“—this new place opened near Saddler’s Village. It’s more of a glorified seafood shack, but I figured since you’re new to the islands that might appeal.”
“You played me.” I stood there stunned, having expected him to hurl quotes at me again, but the boy was a quick study.
“Baby, you walked right
into that one.” He ran his knuckles down my cheek. “I couldn’t help myself. I promise to behave myself for the rest of the night.”
“Don’t bother,” I said, knowing I was inviting trouble. “I’ve got a bead on you now, Jones.”
“Is that so?” He appeared delighted at the prospect. “You think I can’t be good?”
“I think…” I debated how to put it nicely then decided to hell with being polite. “You’re a good-looking man, you’re smart as a whip, and you slay people with your dimples. Seriously, you could inflict a mortal wound with that sharp tongue of yours, and your victim would be too blinded by the crease in your cheek to care.”
Too late I realized my mistake. I’d thought I had seen him smile, but I was wrong. There were the polite smiles I had been on the receiving end of since my arrival, and there was the seductive twist of his lips facing me now. He must have practiced in the mirror. That was the only reason I could fathom for how he had managed to deepened his dimples exponentially.
“Lena, are you saying I affect you?”
Worry that he had glimpsed my fangs earlier, that he might be fishing for confirmation, broke sweat down my spine. He had no way of knowing how affected I had been, right?
“I’m saying seafood sounds good.” I brushed past him on the way to his car. “Let’s go.”
Grinning like a fool, he went.
Chapter 4
Rocco’s On the Beach was a dive of the highest order, the walls surrounding the kitchen nothing more than weathered pallets tacked into a lopsided rectangle that poured smoke from the cooking pit through the cracks. A patchwork of tarps secured first at the roof and then by bungee cords to nearby palm trees created a covered eating area. Music blared through speakers mounted on the trunks, and someone’s iPhone provided the tracks. Under the billowing material, a half-dozen plastic tables with matching sun-bleached chairs gave diners the option of sitting at their table or hauling their seat out to watch moonlight glitter on the waves.
