by L. K. Below
Wincing, she glanced up into his face. He looked terrified. “Lori, I haven’t searched with you since we arrived here.”
Numbness passed through her limbs. She swayed, but Terrence held her in place. “You’re wrong,” she croaked. “You’ve been with me the whole time.”
She couldn’t have been with someone else. She examined her memories, but they were Terrence. All Terrence.
“Did you ever see my face?”
He was paler than usual, but seemed to be getting a handle on the situation. If only Lori could do the same. Mutely, she shook her head.
His hands slipped from her shoulders. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her. He smelled dark, like good coffee, with just a hint of fish. Not enough to be off-putting. Or maybe, Heaven forbid, she was getting used to the stench. She inhaled deeply as he held her. He trembled just the slightest bit. Enough that she didn’t have the heart to pull away.
“I never should have let you search alone.”
“But I wasn’t alone.” His shoulder muffled her voice.
His arms tightened. “No. Pierre found you. If he’d hurt you…” Terrence pulled back. Enough to look her in the eye. “The only reason you’re still alive is because you confronted me about this instead of him.”
Lori stiffened. She tried to pull away.
He refused to let her go.
She spat out a mouthful of his shirt. “I can take care of myself.”
“Lori, he’s–”
“A vampire? I staked you, didn’t I?” When he hesitated, she elbowed him in the side, squirming away. “And don’t say you let me do it.”
Terrence let her break the contact, but slid his hand into hers. With a tug, he pulled her toward the bed. She balked, but he only sat, pulling her down beside him.
“Pierre is dangerous, Lori. He thinks he’s invincible. He’s lost everything that once made him human.”
Pierre this, Pierre that. Lori didn’t believe a word. “And who is this Pierre, your twin?”
Terrence gave a hollow, mirthless chuckle. “My cousin, actually. We’ve always been mistaken for each other.”
“Right.”
He didn’t seem to hear her. His hand clenched around hers as he stared into the distance. “Until he got the scar, at least.”
Lori rolled her eyes. She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was too tight. Much longer and she’d start to lose feeling in her fingers. “What scar? I didn’t see one.”
Terrence frowned at her, as if only just realizing she still sat there. With his free hand, he ran his fingers over one side of his face. “Pierre has a scar. It’s very prominent.”
What was with this talk about a scar all of a sudden? Come to think about it, hadn’t Terrence mentioned something about a scar before they’d left on this mission, too? Lori shook her head. If that was his argument, she wasn’t buying it.
“I didn’t see a scar.” One as prominent as the one Terrence described would be noticeable even in low levels of light. Wouldn’t it?
Terrence leaned forward. He released his hold on her hand to rub his neck. His fingers revealed bare skin. Hadn’t she seen a tattoo there only earlier this evening? No, she must be mixed up. Plenty of locals were practically swimming in tattoos.
“You may not have seen it if he was trying to hide it. I garner he’s gotten good at showing the unmarred side of his face.”
Lori brought her attention back to Terrence’s words. His lies. He still tried to lead her astray. Well, this time, she wouldn’t fall for his tricks. But what should she do about it? He might still lead her to the Spenta Michos.
She’d been saying that all along. Had she gotten any closer? No. Not even a hint. The Spenta Michos might not even be on this island.
Much more likely, Terrence would continue to lead her in circles. Like he’d been doing all along. She needed to lose him for good. Either leave and search for leads on her own, or kill him for the crimes he’d committed. She wasn’t sure which sounded more appealing.
Buck up, Lori. Do what needs to be done.
Facing him head-on would be suicide. She acted brave, but she’d seen him move. Lightning-quick reflexes. Deadly accuracy. When she’d nearly killed him previously, shock had been her only advantage. That, and proximity. Without the same advantage, she’d be as useful as a rag doll. And as easily disposed of. She needed to lull him into a false sense of security.
She slipped her hand onto his knee. She intended it to be an innocent, comforting gesture, but when he turned, his eyes were ablaze. No mistaking what was on his mind. He covered her hand with his, pinning her in place as he leaned forward.
His kiss was tentative at first. Hesitant, like he thought she might pull away. She forced herself to relax, safe for the moment.
When she gave in, he crushed her to him. He reversed their positions, cutting off her escape with his hard male body. His mouth traveled over her jaw to her neck.
What am I doing? Lori enjoyed a wild night as much as the next girl, but this felt tainted. Would she really have sex with a man she intended to kill? It seemed too much like granting a last meal.
Terrence’s fangs scraped against her skin, punctuating that thought. Her muscles seized. Bracing her forearms against his chest, she tried to shove him away. She only marginally succeeded. In a move from a far-off self-defense class, she hooked her legs with his and flipped him over.
Then she scrambled off the bed.
Terrence rose onto his elbows. “Lori.”
She backed away. Not quite daring to look him in the eye. “I…haven’t taken a shower yet today.” A lie. One he could call her on easily, considering he shared the room with her. When she risked a glance, she noticed the light in his eyes had faded. He seemed resigned.
“I’ll be out here,” he said. Wistfully.
* * * *
Lori took sixty precious seconds to compose herself before rejoining Terrence. He’d held a hopeful expression on his face at first, but it had soon given way to acceptance when she’d flopped onto the bed and turned on the television. Not exactly lulling him into a false sense of security, but she couldn’t keep up the pretense. When he tried to speak, she glared him into silence. Finally, he’d given up. She maintained a wall of silence with him until he rolled in a blanket and fell asleep.
Darkness shrouded her, growing lighter along the cracks in the blinds. She retrieved her cellphone, stared at the blank screen. Never had she wanted a message to come as much as she did now. Whoever controlled the Order–if they were still alive–remained silent. No text to tell her what to do with Terrence, like she’d gotten when ordered to recruit him.
What should she do?
Eventually, she rose. A peek through the blinds proved that the sun had breached the horizon. Terrence would be stuck indoors for the day. Vulnerable.
She could tear the curtains down this second. The sun would burn him alive. Her fingernails bit into her palms. I can’t do it. She didn’t want to suffer the same anguish she had last time she’d thought she was the cause of his death.
Then there was only one choice. Turn him in.
Mind made up, Lori redressed in jeans. A quick sniff of her tank top from earlier proved it was still good for another use. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, she crept out of the room.
Terrence slept on.
She didn’t intend to go far. With only one motel in this fleabag town, the detective would have to be in the same building. All she had to do was find the proper room.
The old man hadn’t yet woken up, at least not to attend to the front desk. He kept a list of current residents on paper in the desk’s locked drawer. Lori broke into the drawer and skimmed the book for the answer she needed in under thirty seconds. Thankfully, the word DETECTIVE was written in nearly illegible block letters beneath a room number. Replacing the book, she hurried to the room.
The morning was young yet, so she thought it best to knock. A quiet rap didn’t rouse the man inside. She thumped loudly. The second
her fist collided with the wood, she heard a small click. The door wedged ajar.
She took a breath to call out for the detective. A cloying stench clogged her nostrils. No. She’d smelled that scent far too often over past months. She kicked the door open, drawing her stake.
Blood sullied the room. The detective lay behind the bed, twin puncture wounds in his neck. Gashes riddled his body. Clearly, he’d fought before he’d been felled. But aside from smutches of blood against the walls and some on the ground, the body didn’t shed nearly as much as it should have. Those holes weren’t just for show. A vampire had visited the room. Killed the detective.
But Terrence had been with her the whole time. Which meant he wasn’t the vampire responsible for the ongoing murders.
Then who was?
Chapter 9
Lori didn’t have much faith in Terrence’s plan. As she ambled along the street, waiting for Terrence–or, if he was to be believed, “Pierre”–to catch up with her, she silently fumed. If Terrence cared about her as much as he claimed, why had he suggested using her as bait? She hadn’t been killed yet by the psycho stalking her, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen before she could lead him into Terrence’s hands.
Assuming they weren’t one and the same–which, granted, she’d started to believe.
Pretending she had a different motive, she hovered around the police station, like she intended to investigate within. If this didn’t work, she would have to pick another venue.
Or venture inside. Had the police compiled any clues? Lori had followed less obvious leads. It might be worth a shot.
Without gloves, she would need to be extra careful. Her prints littered enough of the station from her previous visit. She didn’t want to exacerbate that by leaving evidence of her snooping. Approaching the door, she slid the lock picks from her pocket.
“Careful where you touch.” A familiar voice. Terrence’s voice, but sharper. Pierre?
Lori straightened. Night had long since descended. Rather than aid in seeing, the dim spotlight over the door only smeared the gloom. Not far away stood a shadow. But Lori couldn’t tell if the figure had a scar. She couldn’t even make out the features she knew so well.
Slipping the picks away, she stepped forward. Keep your voice icy. Like usual. Speaking stiffly wasn’t hard, considering she didn’t even know the true identity of her companion. He could even be Terrence, attempting to fool her.
But again, she saw the body of the detective. Terrence’s implication was looking less and less plausible. She had to give his plan a try.
With a forced shrug, she answered, “I’m always careful. But I doubt the station has much of anything useful. Let’s try somewhere else.”
“A good idea.” The figure’s voice was silky, dangerous. Did the station have something useful in it after all?
Lori teetered in indecision, but in the end decided to follow Terrence’s plan. If it didn’t work, she could always sneak back later.
Confident the stranger would follow her–he had for every other search, after all–she strode down the street, beginning the merry-goose-chase leading him to Terrence. She meandered back streets and main thoroughfares, hoping to see someone to stop. But as with other nights, the streets were deserted. Even stray cats seemed to steer clear of the night.
Soon, she grew restless. But she didn’t want to appear anxious to bring Pierre to the designated ambush spot. She might tip him off. And if she’d learned nothing else about Terrence and vampires, she definitely wanted backup nearby when confronting one.
Out of boredom, she started to make idle chatter. It was unlike her, but what other choice did she have?
“So, Terrence. You never did answer me the other day. How old are you?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
Terrence had answered. Maybe not an exact figure, but specifically enough for her to get an idea. So then the person following her couldn’t be Terrence…or else he was playing stupid to throw her off.
She wanted to scream out her frustration. Was Terrence telling the truth or wasn’t he? Why couldn’t she make up her mind?
Maybe because she wanted him to be innocent.
To avoid that unsettling thought, she persisted. “I think it’s very relevant. You know how old I am. Why shouldn’t I know how old you are?”
She glanced over her shoulder, but Pierre’s face was in shadow. All she could see was the glint of his eyes. Much like Terrence’s eyes, these eyes pierced right through her. But where Terrence discerning her deepest secrets and fears seemed like a comforting thought, the thought of Pierre knowing them sent chills down her spine.
“Let’s just say I’m so far over the hill, I’m buried under it,” he answered in an eerily calm voice.
He could say that again.
Lori dropped the subject. She’d spent too much time in Pierre’s company already. Time to enact Terrence’s plan.
Turning her back on Pierre–now that she knew his identity–felt like suicide. His gaze settled solidly between her shoulder blades. Each footstep crunching against loose gravel made her cringe. Could he tell? Bad enough that if he chose to kill her, she would have little to no warning. Her practiced art of appearing to be invulnerable seemed to be crumbling the longer it took her to reach her destination. She felt as though she marched into a courtroom to be condemned.
Eventually, she turned the last corner. A square loomed ahead, abandoned at this advanced hour. Streetlights glared at long intervals. The one closest had sputtered out. No sign of Terrence. Her footsteps grew heavy and hesitant as she approached the center. When she drew a deep breath, she coughed against the pungent stench of fish. An ominous omen.
Had Terrence deceived her, after all?
She turned to face the man trailing her. Terrence? Pierre? She didn’t know anymore. He stood beneath the broken streetlamp, peering at the sky as if bored. He presented only one side of his face. Was the other horribly scarred, as Terrence had described? Or was this Terrence’s overcomplicated way of isolating her so he could finish her off?
Which of the two had kidnapped the Spenta Michos? Which of the two murdered the innocent? They might even be working together to pull the wool over her eyes. Lori didn’t know what to think anymore.
Without looking down, the vampire said, “Are we done?”
“Not quite, Pierre.”
Another form stepped closer, from behind Pierre. Terrence.
Lori’s knees weakened with relief. He’d told her the truth, after all.
The light descended on Terrence’s face, enough to discern his unmarred complexion. And his eyes… How could she have mistaken Pierre for him? Terrence’s eyes were such a vivid blue, they warmed her from the inside. They were cold as ice now, as he looked upon his cousin.
With Terrence to serve as a distraction, this was a perfect time for Lori to pen in Pierre. They hadn’t laid this trap for nothing, after all.
Terrence said, “You’ve defied the law for too long.”
Pierre laughed. Trying to make as little noise as possible, Lori reached for her stake, drawing it clear, inch by slow inch.
“And who are you, cousin? The police?”
Even from the back, Pierre looked different from Terrence. He dressed differently–Terrence in understated, black clothing and dark jeans, Pierre in more expensive clothes. Pierre’s hair, roughly the same shade as Terrence’s, was just a touch shorter. Not enough to notice unless she looked closely.
Which Lori didn’t have time to do. Inwardly berating herself, she crept forward, stake at the ready. She had to cut off as many escape routes as she could.
Pierre continued, “We are above the law, you and I. There is no one to stop us.”
Lori risked a glance at Terrence. His face was stony, but he seemed to be doing his part. All she had to do was corner Pierre, and Terrence would take care of the rest. At least according to the plan. She hadn’t liked it, but she had to admit, Terrence’s reflexes superseded hers by leaps and bou
nds.
Terrence took a single step forward. Hemming Pierre in. Pierre seemed as nonchalant as ever. “No one is above the law,” Terrence answered. “Morals are all that keep us human, Pierre.”
“We’re not human. Or did you forget?”
The fierce tone rocked Lori back on her heels. When Pierre spoke like that, he sounded far from human. More like feral. She tried to imagine Terrence’s face twisted into a monstrous expression, but couldn’t. He could be fierce at times, but with just cause. He was only fierce when someone’s life was in danger. Pierre…was something altogether inhuman.
“We were human, and I know there is some humanity left in you yet.”
“Are you waiting for me to confess my sins? Say a Hail Mary or three?”
Terrence ignored the barb. “The Spenta Michos. Is he safe?”
Lori halted in her tracks. Her mouth felt like sandpaper. Everything in her rested on the answer Pierre would give in only a few seconds. Was she already too late?
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” Pierre replied, his tone lackadaisical.
Terrence stiffened, echoing her outrage at the response. “You know,” he snarled.
Firming her grip on her stake, she launched forward. If Pierre wouldn’t voluntarily confess the answers they needed, she would take more extreme measures. She angled the stake to serve as a threat and pulled back so the tip just brushed her jacket.
But Pierre wasn’t in front of her anymore. In the blink of an eye, he’d disappeared. She stood, frozen. How?
Pain scorched her hand. She howled, cradling it to her chest as a vision replaced her eyesight.
Terrence clutched one side of his face in agony as farmer-Lori looked on, a forbidding expression on her face.
The vision fled. The sound of Lori’s stake hitting the ground rattled in her ears. What had the vision been about? A continuation of the last, surely. But what did it mean?
Twin pricks of agony blossomed along her skull as someone fisted her hair, drawing her back. All thoughts of deciphering the vision dissipated. She glanced as far over her shoulder as she could. Pierre loomed over her. A grisly scar marred the near side of his face.
