Eternal Reign

by Melody Johnson

  “Meredith said you were getting dressed and would join us momentarily,” Dominic said. He glanced at his watch—his brown, leather Fossil watch, I noted, not a Rolex—and then met my gaze, one eyebrow raised. “If I’d thought getting dressed would take you over an hour, I’d have gladly assisted.”

  I narrowed my eyes, not liking the double entendre of admonishment and invitation. “I’m sure you would have, but I made it here all on my own.”

  “Too bad,” he murmured. “Maybe if I’d helped, Greta wouldn’t want your head on a pike.”

  “If you hadn’t ditched our meeting with the medical examiner, maybe she would be in a more forgiving mood,” I snapped back. “Will you get Greta or Harroway here?” I glanced over my shoulder at the mob of media. A few heads were already turning our way.

  “To what purpose?”

  I blinked, surprised it wasn’t obvious. “To invite me on scene.”

  His smile couldn’t have possibly been more radiant. “You need an invitation from me to cross a threshold?”

  The irony wasn’t beyond me; I just didn’t find it nearly as amusing. “Dominic, we don’t have time to—”

  “It’s Nicholas,” he interrupted. “‘Dr. Leander’ is acceptable as well.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t—”

  “And you’re very right. We have very little time to solve these murders and gain control of the city before the Leveling, before we lose control entirely,” he interrupted, his voice measured. “What could have possibly kept you?”

  I stilled. Coming from Greta or Harroway, the question was hard enough to shake, but coming from Dominic, with his otherworldly eyes staring into mine and his unimaginably heightened sensory receptors feeding him information, it was an entirely different game. I schooled my face to show my annoyance and hoped he couldn’t smell or taste my anxiety. “I’m sure Greta will slap me with the same reprimand once I get on scene, so save it. Everyone can crucify me all at once.”

  Dominic snorted. “I hardly think my question warrants comparison to crucifixion.”

  “And yet, here I am on the other side of the police barrier, still uninvited. Will you tell Harroway or Greta I’m here? Has a sign-in been established?”

  “You’re an hour late; everything has been established.” He lifted the yellow police tape and gestured me forward. “I give you permission to enter.”

  I rolled my eyes. “As much as giving me permission to enter must tickle you, I need someone running this investigation, like Greta or Harroway, to invite me on scene.”

  “I am helping to run this investigation.”

  “Could you just—”

  Dominic held up a hand. “Calm yourself. Greta told me to invite you on scene should I see you.”

  “Wonderful,” I grumbled, knocking the tape and Dominic’s hand aside as I ducked under the barrier. “You could have led with that when you found me.”

  “Not much in this life still ‘tickles me,’” Dominic said, following hot on my heels as I walked on scene. I swear I could feel the wind of his breath chill the back of my neck as he whispered, “But the fire in your eyes warms me in places I’d never thought to feel heat again.”

  I ignored him and walked faster.

  Wingate Park spanned the entire block between Winthrop Street and Rutland Road, and just like the previous crime scene at Harry Maze Playground, it offered several recreational attractions, including a playground, a football field, handball and basketball courts, and a running track with stadium seating. Situated as it was next to the hospital in a decent neighborhood, people often brought their children here to play. Concerts were held here. People trained on the track and used the field for intermural sports. For the Damned, Wingate Park must have been a damn smorgasbord.

  As I stepped on scene from Winthrop Street, my first view was of the track, the football field directly in front of me, and the stadium to my left.

  My second view was of a torn, dismembered left foot a few yards shy of the goalpost.

  I closed my eyes for a moment to anchor myself, and when I opened them, I deliberately kept my eyes on the field in front of me and not on the limb on the ground next to me. Police were clustered in four groups: two on the far side of the track, one on the field not far from the first two, and the last on the opposite end of the field.

  I frowned. “How many victims were there tonight?”

  “Four.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Only four?”

  Dominic nodded. “We have at least twenty injured witnesses who claim to have been attacked ‘by a freakin’ minotaur.’”

  I stared at him.

  “That was a direct quote.”

  I shook my head. “The Damned don’t have horns.”

  Dominic shrugged. “Their rows of pointed fangs and their disjointed hind legs obviously made an impression, despite the lack of horns.”

  Gazing out over the scene at the four groups of police officers and medical personnel, I shook my head. “The Damned have never shown restraint before. If there were two dozen people here, why only kill four?”

  “And that, DiRocco, is the question of the hour,” Harroway boomed from behind me.

  I flinched, wondering how much of our conversation Harroway had overheard, but I managed to school my expression before facing him.

  “Harroway,” I acknowledged.

  “Jumpy tonight, DiRocco?” He grinned.

  “Only when people sneak up behind me and say, ‘boo,’” I said, sourly.

  Harroway offered his hand to Dominic. “We missed you this morning at the medical examiner’s office.”

  Dominic shook his hand and nodded. “I trust my notes as well as my findings were helpful to the investigation.”

  “Dr. Chunn assured us on your behalf that they were, since you couldn’t bother to assure us yourself,” he shot back.

  Dominic’s eyes darkened, and I resisted the urge to step between the two men. Harroway didn’t know or understand the creature he was prodding. Normally, Dominic might entrance Harroway and send him on his way, but since he had lost that ability, I couldn’t guess at Dominic’s reaction.

  Luckily, Greta and Meredith stepped out from the nearest group of officers and chose that moment to approach, interrupting Dominic’s reply. Greta’s face was an unreadable mask, crafted over years of hard police work and training, but Meredith’s expression spoke for both of them. Her naturally pale complexion had soured to a sickly paste, and the pinched line of her lips was probably the only barrier keeping down her breakfast.

  I knew the feeling well. Having seen the Damned’s damage in person multiple times, I knew that each time was just as sick as the first. I don’t know if anyone really gets over the shock and horror of seeing a human heart being ripped from a person’s chest and eaten raw.

  “Your thoughts?” Greta asked.

  I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the crucifixion I’d anticipated, but Greta was nothing but business. “Four deaths instead of dozens? I don’t like it.”

  “What’s not to like?” Meredith asked. “The fewer victims the better.”

  “They changed their MO,” I answered. “Why?”

  Greta shook her head. “Nothing else was different. The victims are missing their hearts and were torn limb from limb, just like last time. We found scales and some dead-end exit tracks—again, like last time. The only difference is the number of victims and that they allowed live witnesses.”

  “They’re getting sloppy, leaving witnesses,” Harroway said, thoughtfully. “Maybe they were interrupted? If they felt rushed, that would explain the limited victims and the witnesses they left behind.”

  “Interruptions never interfered with their slaughter before,” I pointed out.

  Greta nodded. “Something changed, something big enough for them to limit their kill count.” She met my eyes, and her gaze was hard and penetrating. “Have you seen the bodies yet?”

  I shook my head.

  “You don’t want to,” Mere
dith murmured. She was wearing a beautiful silk scarf that matched her belt and shoes and camera strap—more color, coordination, and fashion in one accessory than I’d ever managed with my entire wardrobe—and she’d double-wrapped said scarf around her nose and mouth. Considering the balmy, seventy-degree air, I doubted the extra wrapping had anything to do with the weather. Whether she was trying to keep her breakfast in or the smell of putrefaction out—likely a combination of both—I knew she was unequivocally right. I didn’t want to see the bodies. I’d seen enough blood and guts and death to last me multiple lifetimes, but it didn’t matter what I wanted. There might be evidence at this scene that wasn’t present at the last, evidence that others might miss and that could be the big break this case needed.

  “You coming?” Greta asked, and without waiting for my answer, she turned on her heel and walked back to the scene.

  She knew me too well. I’d follow her just about anywhere, for anywhere she led, a scoop would inevitably follow.

  I squeezed Meredith’s hand to give her strength for another round and stepped forward to follow Greta.

  I’d taken only three steps onto the sidewalk when something slammed into my back. The impact didn’t necessarily hurt—except for the jarring tweak to my hip and the ache of air being knocked from my chest—but the landing pounded my face and body hard into the ground.

  I struggled onto my side against the weight of whatever was grinding me into the asphalt. “What the—”

  Dominic was on top of me, shielding my body against the creature on top of him. Rows of razor fangs snapped in a snarling frenzy. Its flat, black shark eyes honed in unsettling focus on Dominic’s chest. It drew back its massive hand, each nail a thick, pointed talon, and I screamed.

  The creature’s arm was a blur as it struck, but Dominic was faster. He wrapped an arm around my waist, and with my body pressed flush against his, he launched into the air. We soared a few feet and then landed back on the grass, out of arm’s reach but not out of danger. I gazed out over the field, over what mere seconds ago had been an organized, neatly labeled crime scene, to what was now the bloodbath I had expected upon arriving. Dozens of Damned vampires had descended on the officers, reporters, medical personnel, and bystanders. Where there had once been a dozen victims to slaughter, there were now several dozen, and the Damned weren’t showing any restraint this time.

  “Dear God,” I murmured, horrified. People were being torn apart like rag dolls, their innards exposed, their blood fountaining over the field, their empty chest cavities gleaming in the moonlight.

  “I assure you, God has nothing to do with this,” Dominic said, his voice as sharp and clear and cold as glass.

  “Meredith!” I shouted. I scanned the crowd, but all my mind could register were creatures and blood. “Greta!”

  “Quiet,” Dominic hissed, pulling me tight against him before the mob drove us apart. “You’ll make us a target.”

  I shook my head. “They already fed tonight. Why attack again? Why here, of all places?”

  “The first attack wasn’t to feed. It was just to create the scene, to draw more people in for the real attack,” Dominic said, his luminescent eyes raking over the bloodbath. “For this attack.”

  “The Damned aren’t cognizant enough to plan something like that. They act on pure instinct and hunt as individuals. They don’t organize a planned, collaborative attack.”

  The lines around Dominic’s mouth deepened. “The Damned can’t, but I know a very cognizant, very organized, manipulative vampire creating Damned vampires who would do exactly that.”

  A creature lunged forward, swiping at me with its talons. Dominic slammed into me again, knocking me to the ground and scraping my cheek on grass and gravel, before launching us another few yards back, once again out of arm’s reach.

  I touched my cheek gingerly, my hand shaking as I watched the creature blink at the spot we’d just occupied. It looked up, searching for us, but between people running and creatures chasing, through the chaos of screaming and blood and death, it couldn’t find us in the crowd. Taking advantage of its confusion, I dug the silver nitrate spray out of my pocket and gripped it tightly in my palm. I was prepared with weapons, Dominic was at my side—on my side—and these were creatures we’d battled and won against before. Granted, where there had been one there were now dozens, but despite our dismal odds, I also held tight to the one thing that had saved Nathan, Dominic, and me the last time we’d faced the insurmountable: hope and the unrelenting drive to survive.

  Chapter 14

  When we’d faced Nathan as a Damned vampire, we’d formulated a plan and executed it. The plan hadn’t gone particularly well—it certainly hadn’t gone according to plan—but we’d been successful as far as Nathan was concerned. We’d transformed him from the Damned back into a night blood. In the process, however, Jillian had escaped. I surveyed the carnage in Wingate Park—the people fighting and running, the pitch of their screams as the creatures tore them apart, and the swift cut of their silence as they died, dozens upon dozens of people who would have lived had Jillian never escaped—and I felt sick.

  A high screech pierced the air, cutting through the chaos and my heart.

  Meredith.

  I searched the crowd, but like the creature who’d lost sight of us, I couldn’t pinpoint any one person in the chaos. Dominic and I were the only people not moving in a sea of panic and death, but I’d unmistakably heard her, and if I could hear her, Dominic had undoubtedly heard her, too.

  I touched his arm, still straining fruitlessly to find her in the mob. “Did you hear that? It’s Meredith.”

  “I heard,” Dominic said grimly. “But I can’t—”

  Another creature crashed through the crowd toward us. Dominic wrapped an arm around my waist, and I lost my bearings in the whirling twists and jumps as Dominic dodged the creature and cut through the crowd with me in his arms.

  “We need to find her,” I said, but Dominic didn’t respond. The creature was still hot behind us, tearing through the crowd as Dominic spun and somersaulted in nauseating acrobatics.

  I swallowed bile. “She doesn’t have someone like you to protect her. She doesn’t even know what’s really happening. We need to—”

  “We will,” Dominic growled.

  The creature jumped overhead and swung its talons in a desperate lunge, raking the earth behind us. Dominic wrapped his body around me, shielding my back from its razor-edged claws with his, but the creature was faster than even Dominic. One of its talons caught my shoulder and split my skin to the bone. Blood poured down my arm.

  Dominic growled. Even though I knew his growl wasn’t aimed at me—was, in fact, in defense of me—it still chilled the skin on the back of my neck. Dominic was suddenly half-transformed—his nails lengthened to claws, his mouth elongated into a razor-toothed muzzle, his knees snapped back into hind legs—and he stabbed the creature’s arm with his own talons.

  The creature’s scales were indestructible; Dominic’s claws didn’t so much as leave a scratch. Dominic’s skin wasn’t nearly as impenetrable. The creature’s claws swiped over his back, and I felt Dominic stiffen behind me before blood drenched both of us.

  He’ll heal, I reminded myself. He’s healed from worse injuries. But with the coming Leveling, he didn’t have all the strength and abilities he used to.

  The creature lunged forward, swiping at us a second time. I lifted my arm, aimed the silver nitrate spray at the creature’s face, and pulled the trigger. The creature reared back, clutching its eyes and letting loose a demonic howl. Dominic took advantage of its distraction and put yards of grassy park, screaming bystanders, feasting creatures, and dismembered bodies between us and our creature, letting ourselves once again become lost in the chaos.

  Dominic turned suddenly, tucking me behind him as he scanned the crowd and giving me a view of his back. His shirt was sliced from the small of his back to the top of his shoulder blades, and through its tatters, I could see that his
back was flayed, his skin flapping and bleeding, and as I’d suspected, not healing in the least.

  I reached for the vial of his blood around my neck and was startled when my hand touched only the silver chain. I mentally smacked my forehead; I’d given the vial of Dominic’s blood to Dr. Chunn for DNA testing.

  I leaned forward, careful not to brush my front against Dominic’s raw back. “We can’t keep this up much longer. You’re not healing.”

  “I know,” Dominic wheezed. He didn’t need to breathe to live, yet he was gasping. “I thought you’d run out of Walker’s silver nitrate spray.”

  “I came across some more,” I said. “Get us out of here. Now.”

  Dominic raised an eyebrow. “What about Greta, Harroway, and Meredith? Are you abandoning them to this?” he asked, waving a hand at the field of blood and suffering.

  “You have supporters within the coven. Call on them to help us fight until you regain your full powers.”

  “And reveal how quickly and thoroughly I’ve weakened?” Dominic shook his head. “I’d lose what little support I still have.”

  “We don’t have many options. It’s either that or—” I lost my train of thought as a flutter of yellow silk caught my eye in the crowd. Meredith’s scarf.

  My eyes honed in on the scarf, hoping against everything sane and plausible that she was still wearing it, but when my brain processed what my eyes were seeing, my heart dropped. I wanted to stuff my hopes in a glass jar and smash everything—the jar, my heart, and my stupid hopes—into a million pieces. Meredith was certainly still wearing her yellow silk scarf; a creature was holding her off the ground and choking her with it.