Blood Bath, A Paranormal/Urban Fantasy (The Maurin Kincaide Series Book 4)

by Rawlings, Rachel

  He was a respected and very well paid corporate attorney. The kind who helped big businesses dismantle small businesses. He was not the artist nor did he have an appreciation for the arts.

  He looked at me over the rim of his glass, like he had a thousand times in high school. His eyes flicked left before focusing back on me as he slammed a scotch aged for appreciation not frat boy binge drinking. Like a deer sensing the hunter, I knew my adoptive mother was behind me. I looked down at my favorite worn pair of chucks, my Beastie Boys shirt. I fought the urge to squirm under the weight of her disappointment, fidgeting with the hem of my jean shorts.

  It was the shirt that finally brought me out of the dream - out of what was obviously my subconscious mind's version of a horror show, like watching all five Saw movies back to back.

  Now, that particular shirt had been washed and worn so many times the cotton was practically see through and shrunk to a size just above obscene given my abundance in cup size. I couldn't be wearing it because it was tucked neatly in my pajama drawer. Of course there was still the chance I was in fact dead. Being a teenager and living at home again could certainly qualify as hell.

  I felt the fog of sleep receding, my heart beating, air filling my lungs. I was definitely alive. And not in my own bed. My hand slid across sheets with a higher thread count than mine to find the other side of the bed thankfully cold and empty. My fingers found the butt of a gun that also wasn't mine under the unoccupied pillow. I palmed the grip as I tried to figure out whose bed I was in and what the last thing I remembered was.

  I felt a headache coming. The more I tried to recall where I was before waking in a strange bed, the more my head hurt. At least it wasn't a gaping hole in my chest courtesy of my ex vampire boyfriend. And I didn't need a Freudian analysis to figure out what that dream was really about.

  I smelled cedar, lime and the earthy scent belonging to Cash. If there was any doubt about my heart actually being ripped out, the hammering in my chest from that realization confirmed its whereabouts. Why was I in Cash's bed? And not wearing my jeans. While I contemplated all the painful ways I would make him tell me what happened, something tingled at the edge of my awareness. I was not alone in the room. It wasn't Cash. His scent was all over the sheets but not the cloying scent of an alpha wolf sitting a few feet away.

  I pretended to be asleep on my side, tightened my grip on the gun under the pillow and tried to sense exactly where the other person in the room was. I had a thirty-three point three three percent chance of getting it right. In front of me--beyond the empty side of the bed, at the foot or behind my back which faced the rest of the room. Instinct and a pretty decent horror movie repertoire had me picking the last one.

  Before I could contemplate the fact that the voyeur could have killed me while I slept, I rolled to my knees swinging the gun around in a move that would have been totally bad ass if not for the worst case of bed head in my entire life. I found my target and didn't bother lowering the Walther p99.

  "The safety is still on."

  "Easily remedied."

  "Before I can disarm you?"

  "Wanna find out if vampires are faster than a silver bullet?"

  "Given the fact you are sleeping in a werewolf’s bed," his eyes dropped to the black lace with strategically placed cotton that made up my boy shorts, "I highly doubt the bullet is silver."

  "Funny, that's what makes me think they are. Not that it would have the desired effect on you. What are you doing here, Aidan?"

  "I could ask you the same thing. Given your state of undress it seems your wolf was entirely truthful." His tone was entirely too accusatory for someone so willing to walk away from me. "Are you going to put the gun down?"

  "He's not my wolf and I'm still thinking about it." Seeing Aidan sitting across from me was a little unnerving after the dream I just had. I fought the urge to rub my sternum and lowered the gun.

  "Your wolf went to fetch your laptop, coffee and clean clothes from your apartment. He seemed to think you'd want a shower and your favorite blend before googling this latest problem to death."

  "Stop calling him my wolf," I growled. "And why couldn't I do all of that from my apartment one flight up?"

  "I think he enjoyed the idea of me finding you half naked in his bed with your scent clinging to his sheets." The jealousy darkening his gorgeous features hurt my already aching head and had my heart skipping a beat.

  I flopped down on my back and slipped the gun under the pillow. "Why do I feel like I'm getting over a pandemic flu?"

  "You've been out for eight hours, after you blacked out twice at SPTF. You..." He shook his head. "I can't... I need you to get out of his bed. I know you're exhausted but I can't stand the sight of you in just your underwear tangled in his sheets."

  "I'm wearing a shirt and my bra." I gave a quick feel for confirmation. "Son of a bitch! How did he get my bra off?" I thought about making him uncomfortable a little while longer. He deserved it. Then I thought about how I would feel if I saw him in some other woman's bed, innocent or not and had one of those Kill Bill flashing red light, wee woo siren moments.

  Once the red cleared and I could see straight again I decided he had suffered enough watching me toss and turn in Cash's bed, missing half my clothes- which Cash and I would discuss later.

  I barely had both feet planted on the floor before Aidan had me crushed against him. He tucked my head under his chin and muttered something about wet dog before sniffing under my jaw. He brushed back my tangled hair and buried his face in my neck, his lips resting gently on my pulse. I felt him relax as he inhaled my scent. I tried to back up to get his face off my neck and understand what he was saying. I didn't know it was possible to be pressed this tightly against someone without merging into their body.

  "I know you haven't been with him. His disgusting scent is all over you but it's faint. It's not in you."

  "Umm, first eww. I don't think I want you to confirm if that meant what I think it means. And second, does he really smell disgusting to you because I think he kind of smells like cedar and lime, like the forest after a storm." He growled and if I didn't know better I would have thought he was a wolf too. "Right, sorry. Jealous vampire. Got it."

  "Any man's scent on your body would disgust me." He feathered kisses down my neck while his hands crept lower on my back.

  "I wouldn't have expected this reaction from someone who could just toss me aside like yesterday's garbage." I almost said rip my heart out but decided against it.

  His hands froze below the waistline of my boy shorts. "I did not throw you away like a piece of trash. I was trying to keep you from getting hurt."

  "Well guess what, I did get hurt. By you."

  "I was trying to protect you, to keep you safe." He wasn't pawing me anymore but he didn't let go of me either. I think he was a little afraid of the increased pitch and decibel of my voice, which often led to flailing arms and flying objects.

  "News flash, Neanderthal, you don't dump your girlfriend to keep her safe. You stay firm--" My tirade was cut short by Aidan crushing his lips against mine. His tongue traced my bottom lip before prying its way into my mouth.

  His cold touch set my skin on fire as he backed me against the wall, pinning my hands above my head with one hand. His free hand slipped under my shirt, over the curve of my hip toward my ribs. I gasped as he familiarized himself with my neck and his hand slid higher.

  "I was wrong. Agrona was right, you were right. No matter what I do to prevent it, you will wind up involved and in danger. Like you always are. I was an idiot. From the first time I saw you, that night at Mahalia's, I knew. And then you gave me your blood. My fate was sealed with the first drop, a chuisle."

  I shushed him. "Too much talking. You had me at I was wrong." I hooked a leg around his hip, just as the front door opened. We both groaned and not in a good way.

  Aidan let me go and nudged me toward the master bath. "Take a shower, it'll help."

  "If you're referring to th
e olfactory onslaught, I doubt it." The front door slamming confirmed my statement.

  "The olfactory onslaught will help the wolf remember you're mine but I was referring to the fact you're still not running at top speed. You'll feel better after a shower." He laid a gentle kiss on my temple.

  "I'm feeling better already." And I meant it. I wasn't normally the needy, dependent kind of girl but Aidan cut me when he decided it was better for him to leave without so much as discussing it with me.

  Hearing his admission that I drove him crazy, that he wanted me as much as I wanted him, did a lot to mend the wound. Hearing him say he was wrong practically had me undone. This did not mean I was trading in my sword for an apron to live in domesticated bliss with my vampire.

  I traced a finger down his jaw, satisfied for now that he was my vampire again, before closing the bathroom door. I turned the hot water on and decided to stay in the shower until the pissing contest about to take place in Cash's kitchen was over, or the cold water drove me out.

  6

  Cash had coffee waiting and my laptop fired up by the time I got out of the shower. I padded out of his bedroom barefoot in a pair of black yoga pants and the perfectly worn Beastie Boys shirt from my dream.

  I knew Cash had simply thrown open a drawer and grabbed the first thing he saw but it still freaked me out. Not as much as the time he obviously spent picking out my underwear, however. No wonder I was dressed like I was going to clean my apartment instead of using my crime solving skills and general bad assery to figure out who was killing these girls. He spent the whole time in my apartment digging in my underwear drawer - because this set was definitely not on top.

  I was surprised to see them both sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me without ice packs or bandages. They looked up when I came in, with similar expressions of possession and desire. The look Cash gave me was directly related to the matching black lace bra and panty set he picked out.

  Aidan's was because he knew he would be the one to actually see me in them. Although this dammed shirt was thin enough to give Cash an idea of what he was missing. Actually that might explain why Aidan had a smug look on his face instead of fighting with Cash again.

  The last time the three of us were together was at my sister's wedding reception. There was dancing, the silent declaration of both men's intentions, fighting. You know, the usual. I had been ignoring the strain on both of my relationships - friend and boyfriend - ever since. If nobody else was in the mood to discuss it tonight, I was happy to continue to ignore it.

  I poured a cup of the Starbucks eighty-twenty blend, wishing Cash had grabbed my French Press too. I switched to a press a couple weeks after swearing off the Daily Grind, and was hooked. Of course the need to feed my caffeine addiction meant I would gnaw on coffee beans if that was my only option. Aidan slid my laptop to his side of the table while I mixed in the perfect amount of sugar and cream. It was obviously going to be one of those passive aggressive battles. This was going to be a long night.

  I took a sip from my mug, relishing the taste of the magical brew, and thought about the best keywords for my search. My companions new better than to pester me with questions about passing out at the station or what I had seen when I held the necklace until after my second cup of coffee.

  I would have to call Masarelli soon but he'd have to wait until after my refill and a little bit of googling. I needed something more substantial to tell him because I saw a murder but it was like a hundred and fifty years ago and then I had a bad dream, was not super helpful.

  New England vampires would probably bring up a page of useless websites but I didn't have a better starting point. Imagine my surprise when the first thing to come up was a link to a newspaper article and the History Channel's website for a corresponding show based on its findings. I started with the article.

  1892 Exeter, RI- Mysterious illness claimed life of nineteen year old Mercy Brown and her mother. When it appeared her brother was doomed to suffer the same fate, Mercy's body was exhumed. Upon examination, doctors discovered pink flesh, longer hair and nails than the girl was known to have in life and she was subsequently deemed a vampire. Her heart was cut out, burned and the ashes fed to her brother who died two months later.

  1896 Willington, CT- Dr. Grant, deemed a snake oil salesman by modern medicine, sent a letter to editor of local paper offering a cure for vampirism. According to Dr. Grant, to determine if the recently departed had indeed become a vampire, one should look for vines growing through the grave site. If vines had over taken the grave, the remains should be dug up and burned. Upon hearing word of Dr. Grant’s advice, Isaac Johnson dug up his two children, Amos and Elizabeth, and performed the cure.

  19th Century Griswold, CT- in an undated and relatively unmarked grave researchers discovered grisly remains of who they affectionately call J.B., the only thing etched into the tombstone. Upon examination it was determined that the head had been posthumously removed and placed in the grave facing west. All of the ribs were broken and the femur bones crossed over the torso to form an X- the symbol for death. With no full name, or written record of anyone with the initials J.B. living in Griswold, it may never be determined who this person was and why his remains were desecrated.

  Researchers now believe the rampant fear of a vampire den living in New England during the late 1800s was in fact a wide spread infection of tuberculosis. Symptoms of fatigue, pale skin, coughing up blood -which often left the sick with blood on the corners of their mouths- was cannon fodder for the superstitious, leading to the belief that vampires had invaded and corrupted their communities.

  Damn. Interesting but not very helpful. Aidan had been reading the article as well and went sort of rigid when he got to the end.

  "Tell me what you saw that made you search for this?"

  "I didn't search for this. I searched for vampires in New England."

  "Maurin." Aidan's tone said he wasn't in the mood for games. "That would have garnered all sorts of ridiculous results. Why this article? What about it called to you?"

  I spun the laptop around so Cash could see what we were talking about before I answered him. "It felt like the right time period. I got something from the necklace, from a girl but not the right girl. I was hoping I could make some sense of what I saw before I talked to Masarelli."

  Aidan's hand clasped mine. "Tell me what you saw."

  I told them both in vivid detail about my reading from the necklace. Cash looked confused. Aidan looked stricken.

  "Mercy Brown."

  It was a whisper but I heard it. My stomach dropped. I gave Cash a cursory glance to see if he was keeping up but he just shrugged. I squeezed Aidan's hand, prompting him to continue.

  "She wasn't dead when he threw her into that grave. They thought he killed her but while the townspeople were out looking for him he came back to finish the job. I think he may have actually loved her."

  He was there. He didn't need to read the article. Aidan saw it firsthand. He wasn't newly turned, of course I knew that but I'd never really seen him as anything beyond the thirty year old man he appeared to be. We spent a lot of time getting to know each, our likes and dislikes but as he told us about Mercy Brown I realized how seldom he talked about his past.

  For the first time I was getting more than a glimpse of Aidan's history, of the events that shaped the vampire I had grown to love. I had a million questions that I knew would break the spell Aidan seemed to be under. I needed to let him tell the story on his own.

  "She rose the next night with an insatiable thirst and no comprehension of what she had become. He warned her not to go but she was afraid. Of him. Afraid of the monster she realized he was and what she had become. She went to the only place she felt safe, home. Her brother was there and she succumbed to her thirst. She drained him. Once her blood lust was sated the reality of what she was, what she had done lay like a withered husk at her feet. He found her muttering about the devil and her soul while rocking her brother's corpse and to
ok her back to his home. He would never save her. Not that night or the night the necromancer came.

  "Mercy was not the first he sired, not after centuries of walking the Earth. He was insane, a tyrant in life and no better in undeath. I think he thought she could save him. Instead he spent the next four years keeping her from walking into the sun.

  “I was there waiting, watching. Dr. Grant was no doctor. He was a necromancer, hired by Willington to rid their community of the demons hiding among them." He laughed. "Demons, if they only knew they truly existed, but we were terrifying enough."

  I didn't miss the fact he said we and wondered what Aidan had done to include himself. Cash apparently heard it as well and gave me a fucking vampires look. I gave him a swift kick in the shin under the table. I held my breath, afraid even the sound of air filling my lungs would bring him back to the present and the story to an end.

  "He shouldn't have left her alone but he had no choice. There was no one to look after her. He slaughtered every vampire he recently sired. At first I thought he did it to save himself, even back then I had a reputation. His little nest had drawn far too much attention from the town and the infamous Dr. Grant. Years later I understood why he destroyed his line.

  “He wanted no evidence of the true monster he was for Mercy to find. For their lives to be untouched by the ferocious vampires he had created in his likeness. So when she refused to hunt, the only thing he could do was bring blood to her. Grant discovered his identity and sought him out. Perhaps it was a rare lucid moment or a shred of her humanity responding to a familiar task that made her open the door- either way, it was to be her end.

  "I should have intervened, stopped the necromancer but I thought it would be an entertaining way for my task to be completed. So I waited. I watched Grant work until the horrific acts were too much for even me to witness. Do you know why we hate them, why most vampires fear them?"

  I wasn't sure if I was actually supposed to answer. He looked at me expectantly, like he already knew what I was going to say and it would be wrong. "Because they can raise the dead, they can control us.