Pallas: Vampire Romance (Vanguard Elite Book 5)

by Annie Nicholas

  She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Me, too. Keep this between us until we catch him. We can’t afford Homeland burying the evidence.”

  “You think they would?” His eyebrows rose, his mouth slightly agape.

  “I don’t know. If yesterday you would have asked me if I thought Joe capable of killing a suspect, I would have said no.”

  “Is that what happened downstairs?”

  “I’m not one hundred percent sure, but Pallas was placed in the woman’s cell that has a window, which let sunlight inside. Last I remember, vampires can’t sunbathe.”

  Murray’s lips thinned. “Joe was pretty upset after delivering the bad news to Bob’s wife. I didn’t think he would go vigilante.” He shook his head. “I’ll keep this file safe and test Bob’s body for other signs of foul play. Make sure I didn’t miss anything the first time.”

  “Can you run some kind of tox screen without blood?” Finally, they had something to work with. Something she could use to convince the vampire to return with her. If she could find him.

  Murray rubbed his chin. “It’s more difficult, but I can take tissue samples and send it to the state lab.”

  “Drive them there yourself.”

  Chapter Five

  State troopers assisted in the search for Pallas. They canvassed the outlying farm lands and forests, leaving the town for her deputies and Homeland. It also left her in charge of calming the townspeople. At this point, if she could have legally slipped them all a Xanax, she would have.

  “There goes another one.” Wesley pointed to a minivan turning the corner, packed with kids, suitcases, and the family dog.

  She sighed. That made at the fifth family she’d watched leave today. Word spread quickly that a rogue vampire was loose in the area and they still hadn’t caught him. Luckily, Pallas’ identity hadn’t been linked. Yet. Once it got released, there would be anarchy.

  No doubt about it. A regular vampire was dangerous but could be handled with silver and a wooden stake. Pallas, though, exuded power that made her worry if any of those things would even work. Look how Homeland was jumping through hoops to find him.

  People were used to the idea of being on the top of the food chain in their small area. It brought them a sense of security knowing they could protect themselves. Then in waltzed Pallas and his werewolves to destroy those delusions. He had crushed hers on their first meeting. She could kick anyone’s ass in this county, including those Homeland goons. The night she’d met Pallas, he had broken into her office and fought back with such easy grace it had taken her breath away. He could have killed her and no one would have suspected him; instead he had sparred with her, then escaped the building.

  That encounter was at the core of her belief in his innocence. He had so many opportunities to kill any of the townspeople, like herself or those who had set fire to his manor, yet he’d let them all live. Why would he kill now and so clumsily?

  “Sheriff?”

  She shook her head clear of tired daydreams and focused on Wesley.

  He held out his cell phone. “State troopers haven’t seen any movement at the manor all day. None of the werewolves have returned. They did find a room filled with weapons though.”

  “What the hell?” Pallas was making it too easy to convict him. She grabbed Wesley’s phone. “What kind of weapons are we talking about?”

  The state trooper on the other end listed things from automatic rifles to freaking broad swords. As the list grew longer, her heartburn worsened.

  “I’ll send my man over to lead processing the scene.” She handed Wesley the phone. “Call Joe and tell him to head over there.” She needed someone competent at the manor stat.

  The neighborhood she and Wesley had been searching was drenched in long shadows as evening approached. She’d been on her feet for over twenty-four hours. She was going to need to chew coffee beans whole to stay awake much longer. “Let’s go. You’re driving.” She tossed him her keys. She needed a minute to close her eyes and think.

  “Where to?”

  “I don’t care. Just drive.” She slouched into the passenger seat and stared out of the window while Wesley headed along Main Street.

  If she were an ancient vampire on the run, where would she go?

  Away. Someone like Pallas would have contingency plans. If it weren’t daylight, she’d say he was already out of the country and into Canada by now, but the sunlight kept him pinned down. She glanced at the sunset. For now. He’d be on the move soon and they’d never catch him then. She’d never see him again. Fight with him again. Reject any of his flirtations again.

  Why had she rejected him? He was obviously interested. She wasn’t looking for a new ex-husband but she didn’t think Pallas had marriage in mind. Her lips curled into a small smile. They could have done many naughty things together.

  They passed the local diner and she recognized two faces in the window, sipping coffee. “Stop!” she shouted. “Back to the diner.”

  Wesley pulled a U-turn.

  She was out of the cruiser before he fully stopped and she stormed into the restaurant.

  Gillipsie and Thomas sat in the booth, both appeared well rested and groomed. Fuckers. They were supposed to be helping her and she hadn’t heard anything from them all day.

  “What have you been doing?” She set her hands on her hips.

  Gillipsie had the nerve to scoot over and pat the bench next to him. “Join us for an early dinner.”

  “No thanks, I have a manhunt to run. Something I thought you to would be all over.”

  Thomas’ glare iced over. “We’re not the ones who lost the bloodthirsty killer.”

  She fisted her hands, blood boiling. “I—but—fuck you.” Her brain was fried.

  “Once night falls, he’ll leave his hiding hole to kill again. We’ll be ready then.” Gillipsie offered her a menu. “You sure you’re not hungry?”

  She slapped it from his hand. Cool as a cucumber was her motto but lack of sleep and her town falling into fear had her tossing that motto out the door.

  Thomas jumped to his feet, looming over her. “You’re losing it, Lee.”

  “I’m not the one sitting here waiting for another death. What kind of agent are you?”

  “The kind that gets results.” He slammed his wooden stake against the table. Notches had been scored into the wood like a tally.

  “Good luck on catching this one.” She turned her back on them, heart in throat as she strode through the exit. They didn’t give a crap about her little town.

  “Who said anything about catching? We’re beyond that,” Thomas called out.

  She twisted to face him again.

  “Going to kill him.” The way Thomas quietly sealed Pallas’ fate sent a shiver down her spine.

  The roar of big vehicles outside drew her attention. Homeland Security logo stamped on their side. A crew of rough looking characters exited the two trucks.

  “Looks like our reinforcements have arrived. Don’t worry. We’ll safeguard your town by morning. Maybe then you’ll want to have breakfast?” Gillipsie winked and she fought the urge to shoot him.

  The noise below Pallas’ hiding spot lessened as evening drew near. He stretched, rolling his neck to ease the kink. There had been a time when sleeping in an attic would have been a luxury. Hell, he had spent over three centuries sleeping on a stone slab in an icy case. That was all before Daedalus had introduced him to this age where vampires lived out in the open, owned houses, and slept in b beds.

  Pallas had grown soft. Rising to his feet, he made little noise but his lower back screamed in agony. He sighed, waiting for the spasms to relax. Was it bad to miss his own bed?

  A long time ago, he wouldn’t have. But he’d glimpsed heaven. Daedalus lived openly among humankind. Turned a sweet woman, who for some reason loved his brother, into a vampire wife. They had their own small nest of vampires outside Chicago. It wasn’t his heaven but it gave him hope.

  He’d already chosen his mate.
It was too bad she was trying to arrest him for fucking murder. Was this what a vampire had to do to get her to notice him?

  His back relaxed and he stood up straight as he could in the low ceiling attic. The sun was just about to set. He could sense it in his bones.

  According to the television shows, people no longer courted. They dated. He wasn’t require to speak with her father nor should he expect her to be a virgin. From what he had seen, the men plied their women with gifts.

  Sheriff Lee didn’t seem like the flowers and candy sort of woman. He doubted even diamonds would impress her. Maybe he should send her a gun? Oh, or some throwing daggers. He’d seen some excellent sets in the magazines Darrell hid under his bed.

  First, he had to clear his name. It would be much easier if he just ran and started over in another country, but he’d invested a lot of energy into connecting with the small town. He loved his land and his manor. It was his home. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d had a home.

  The sun finally fell behind the earth and the night called to him. He eased open the trap door that led to the roof of the sheriff’s office. He’d used the entrance once before. Actually, it was the first night he had met the Sheriff. When he had broken into her office.

  The sky was clear, stars sparkling in the cold mountain air. He crept to the edge and spotted Deputy Joe crossing the parking lot to his vehicle. He was in uniform. Pallas reached out to his weak mind. The deputy wasn’t as exhausted as he had been this morning, so not as easy to knock out.

  Coasting down the side of the building, he pulled the shadows close to his body until he reached Joe’s car.

  In the old days, he hadn’t understood the concept of mercy. Well, that wasn’t true—he’d understood it, he just hadn’t cared. Tonight, he practiced mercy and only took a pint of Joe’s blood and left him to sleep in the backseat of his car. He licked his lips, savoring the moment. It had been months since he’d drunk straight from the source. Damn, that was good.

  His wolves had bugged him about obtaining a cellular phone. Why would he want to speak to anyone? But maybe they were right. He would have liked to speak to his brother. There were nuances he could be missing in this fiasco. Alas, he had other things to worry about.

  The boot camp pack was out in the wilderness. The last time he’d sent them out, a third of the pack had gone feral. They’d been trained to survive but they had no goal, no mission. Confused and frightened, werewolves were dangerous. The idiots were probably organizing a half-baked rescue that would get them all killed.

  He picked up Joe’s car keys on the driver seat. He must’ve dropped them when Pallas had attacked. No, he wouldn’t steal the deputy’s personal crappy car. No matter how convenient the ride. He had standards to maintain. Stealing pieces of junk was not acceptable.

  Now, a police cruiser with all those shiny lights would be more appropriate. No, no…must resist temptation.

  He didn’t want attention; however, he would drive one of those cruisers one day.

  On foot then. Like the old fucking days. Snow to his knees and wind promising frostbite. The cold didn’t damage his flesh but he still felt it. Most days he found it invigorating, but after a day spent in a cramped attic, he would have enjoyed a warmer journey.

  No point in checking the manor. The police would have secured his home by now. His wolves weren’t stupid enough to return. Right? He ran, taking the alleys to the fields, then to the farmland. State troopers seemed to sprout from the ground. They were everywhere. Flashlights in one hand, wooden stakes in the other. Pallas could sense their thoughts as they neared and would gently nudge them to turn away. Others that glimpsed his running form were then convinced he was only a shadow playing tricks with their vision.

  He couldn’t keep this up all night. Homeland Security thought he had godlike powers. He had limits and he was reaching his. He could trick and suggest thought. He couldn’t control them.

  Where would Ian take the pack? He could only think of one place rural enough to offer both shelter and safety.

  Alastair’s cabin.

  Chapter Six

  The journey to the secluded cabin helped clear Pallas’ aching head. Once past the manor, there was little need to extend his mind and blur human thoughts. What a pain in the ass. Or head, in his case.

  These humans were determined to catch him and many of them had strong minds, which made it that much harder to penetrate. In the past, people had been much easier to scare. Vampires were myth then and lived in the shadows. Going public with their existence made them more tangible, less frightening. Especially since they now knew vampires had weaknesses.

  Snow slowed his pace but he managed to arrive at the foot of Mount Killmore without rousing suspicions. It would be so easy to continue forward over the mountain range, away from this trouble. It was what he would have done ages ago. Take his werewolf army and march over the humans or retreat. Whatever seemed more feasible.

  This pack would follow him as blindly as his army even though they were new to each other. All of them born in different packs. None of whom he had raised. Heavy hearted, he recalled his wolf family. Long gone now. Slowly slaughtered over the decades as men grew wiser and learned to hunt them.

  The stark bare branches stood out in the moonlight that sparkled on the snow. He paused in the dense forest just beyond view of the cabin. The land around it was sparse of trees and he would be exposed. Warm yellow light filtered through the windows and smoke trailed out of the chimney.

  They had made it.

  He tilted his head. Wait…how had they all fit in that small cabin? Pallas reached out to the small animals in the quiet forest, taking control of a nearby rabbit. He slipped inside its body and hopped across the exposed snow, searching for the sound of guards. He couldn’t treat a human like a puppet, but the rodents were easy. The pack should be patrolling the grounds in wolf form. That’s if they had listened during class and weren’t daydreaming about making puppies. There would be some serious punishment if they were all in there roasting marshmallows.

  Footsteps. He paused, crouching low in the deep snow. The sound was wrong. The footsteps crunched as if booted instead of soft paws. Like he suspected, more police officers. He let the rabbit go and fought the vertigo snapping back into his body. He ground his teeth.

  What had happened to his wolf pack? He jumped to his feet and paced. Losing his shit wouldn’t help them or himself. He tried to pretend he was Daedalus for a minute.

  Inner calm.

  Inner calm.

  He punched the closest tree. Dammit. He’d been so close to being happy then this had happened. He punched the trunk again. This time it cracked. The noise echoed in the hollow night. The tree swayed, leaning alarmingly to the right. “No, no, no.” Pallas tried to stop its fall. So much for channeling his brother. Daedalus always brought out the worst in him anyways.

  The tree wasn’t heavy but awkward as hell. He stood there preventing its crash to the forest floor. What was he doing? He didn’t want to attract attention but someone must’ve heard the initial crack and was probably on their way here to investigate.

  He hung his head. At least he had no witnesses to kill. Stupid move on his part. His temper would be his downfall. Stepping aside, he let the tree fall. They would definitely know he was here now. With that in mind, he ran.

  The best thing he could do for his wolves was stay away until he solved this murder. Problem was he didn’t know how. Was there a rogue vampire in his territory with balls big enough to challenge him? How would Pallas find them? These problems were best handled by—by a sheriff.

  Who would shoot him on sight.

  It took all his willpower not to roar at the night sky in frustration. Here he was, running in knee-high snow, leaving a trench wide enough for a blind man to follow. The only thing saving him was his speed and endurance. None of which would protect him once the sun rose. He needed to think and he couldn’t do that while being chased. W
here could he hide? He couldn’t go back to the police station attic. Not after feeding off Joe in the parking lot. There was too much chance of discovery in his sleep. Where would the police least likely look?

  His mouth curled into a smile as he thought of the perfect hiding spot.

  It didn’t take long for the media to arrive in Alberg. Huge vampire hunt in upstate New York would sell papers and hike up ratings nationwide. At least this horrid situation poured some much-needed income into their small community.

  Gillipsie had made a public statement on behalf of Homeland Security in the early evening. Sheriff Lee refused to comment. She hid behind the walls of her station, waiting on Murray’s return with the drug screen results. She wouldn’t lie to the public. She’d make her statement once she irrefutable proof in her hands.

  According to the report Murray had left on her desk, one puncture wound was twice as deep as the other. So either the bite mark was fake or they were hunting a lopsided fanged vampire. Both proved Pallas was innocent. Neither agent wanted to hear the report, even when she shoved it in Thomas’ face. They wore blinders now that they had a reason to capture a Nosferatu vampire.

  She googled the term but the list of information was so long she couldn’t sort fact from fake. She also couldn’t read all the articles in time for it to matter in saving Pallas. She rested her weary head on the desk.

  Why was she trying to save him again?

  Because he was innocent. And she really, really hated to admit this, but she liked the jerk. That’s why. Her uniform intimidated most men but not him. He still flirted with her every chance he had. Eyed her like a piece of candy. She wished just once she had taken him more seriously. It had been a game. He would make a pass and she would shut him down hard. Then he came right at her saucier than before.

  It had been fun, tempting fate, like poking a rattlesnake. Dangerous and might bite her. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She always seemed attracted to men who were bad for her.