“I’d really appreciate it.” She gave him a quick, uncertain smile. “My feet are so cold.”
That would be because she was barefoot, but he didn’t point it out. “Is that your building over there?”
“Y-yes. Wow, look at all the police. I wonder what’s going on. Think somebody had a break-in?”
“Why don’t we go in the back way?”
“Good idea.”
Gently, he guided her to the corner, and they crossed with the lights. Nice and easy.
As they went around to the parking lot, she started to become agitated, looking nervously around her. They were passing through the rows of cars, stepping over the concrete ribs that kept them in tidy lines. “Thank you for walking with me.”
“No problem. What’s your name?”
“Michelle.”
The back door was still a fair distance away, its light making a pool on the gathering snow. A single cop stood outside, looking bored.
She started violently, colliding with Darak in terror of something only she could see. His coat slid off her shoulders and fell into the snow. He caught her, wrapping his arm around her so that she was caged against his chest. He crouched down between a truck and an SUV, letting her sink safely to the ground. “Hey, take it easy. You’re not alone. I’m here.”
“What’s happening?” Trembling like a fever victim, her slight weight began to fade.
They weren’t going to make it through the door before her spirit fled the earth.
“Tell me what happened, Michelle.”
Clamping her hands around her head, she shrieked, a piercing wail that reverberated through his bones. He hushed her, cradling her against his body. “Sh. You’re safe.”
Necromancy.
The word burned hot in his gut. He knew this for what it was now. The spell caster had gotten his power from this woman’s murder. Now that the spell was winding down, she got to live through the horror all over again.
She was panting, a sheen of sweat coating her fine features despite the cold. “He came for me. He said it was a warning to Talia that she was next. Watch out for her. Please. Please.”
“I will. I promise.”
Her eyes grew wide, seeing something or someone looming closer. She raised her hands, warding off an invisible blow.
“Michelle—”
Stripes of blood blossomed on her hands.
“No!” He shielded her with both his arms, using his size and bulk to ward off the horror that only she could see.
She screamed again, so loudly that Darak squeezed his eyes shut.
In that split second, she was gone. He crouched in the parking lot, his skull still splitting from the noise.
The cop didn’t come running. He hadn’t heard a thing. It was Darak’s special curse to see and hear the dead. One he loathed violently each and every day.
He picked up his jacket and stuffed his arms through the sleeves, sending the buckles and zippers jangling. Darak turned toward the back door with its single guard. It would be easy enough to hypnotize the human into letting him have a quiet look through the building. Odds were there would be no clues to the necromancer’s identity, but he had to look.
Slowly, he got to his feet, swallowing hard as if he were choking something down. He rested his hand for a moment on the hood of the truck, taking a long breath of the icy air.
Pluto’s balls, he hated these encounters. A hard ache lurked where his heart should have beaten. This jackass with a spell book had ruined Darak’s evening. He had completely messed with Michelle’s.
The jackass had to die.
Wednesday, December 29, 12:05 p.m.
Lore’s condo
Once he was through scoping out the crime scene, Lore left the building, walking into the steadily falling snow. He’d learned a few things, including how the police intended to proceed. They were looking for evidence of who came and went from the building and when. They were looking for witnesses. They wanted to know about Michelle’s and Talia’s lives, whom they associated with, and why anyone would wish them harm. Mostly, they were looking for Talia.
Lore already had a head start on the last item. He needed to catch up on the rest, now that he had a road map to follow. It would have been more efficient to share information with Baines—the man was obviously no fool—but the hellhounds hadn’t survived by trusting anyone else. He wanted solid proof of Talia’s guilt before he left her to the mercy of the human cops.
He crossed the street, fascinated by the dizzying, swirling snow. It left cold kisses on his skin, chill and ephemeral as a ghost. Or a vampire.
Not that their flesh was that cold. It was cool and smooth as silk, enticing as half-forgotten wishes. No, it wasn’t the temperature, but the odd, hushed melancholy of the snow that made him think of the Undead.
Or perhaps it was the silence. Talia was too new to have that eerie calm. Instead, the chill, pure air reminded him of another Undead beauty.
Constance Moore and her son had lived in the Castle, the prison where Lore had grown up. Because Lore was a friend to her boy, almost a big brother, she’d included him in their daily lessons. She had taught Lore to read and write—rare skills for a lowly hellhound. His people had been little better than slaves, but Constance had never been anything but kind. Now her gift of knowledge gave him an edge for survival in the human world.
Perhaps it was the memory of Constance that made him protective of Talia. Foolish. They were entirely different people. More than that, he was a different person now, a grown Alpha with no time for sentimentality. Which was why he was standing in the snow with his cell phone, running interference for a pretty vampire he had no business helping.
Nah, he’d been suckered since the moment she’d tried to kick him in the head. He had a weakness for girls with some spirit. Idiot.
Lore began punching in a number. He’d gone outside because he was too wary to risk being overheard by the cops. Now he began pacing, impatient to get answers.
Fortunately, Perry was still up.
“Miss me?” the werewolf said dryly. “Or do you think I’m such a crack researcher I’ve found your answer to the floaty evil already?”
“Have you?”
“No.”
“Too bad. Something else has happened.”
“I heard about the clinic building burning. The vamps have gone bat-shit crazy about the campaign office.”
Lore ignored the not-so-subtle bat joke. His mind was on a straight road that he hoped led to confirming Talia’s innocence. “There was a murder in my condo building.”
After a stunned silence, Perry made a noise that wasn’t quite a laugh. “What?”
“I’m not making this up.”
The wolf swore. “What the hell is going on tonight?”
Lore looked up and down the street, his eyes searching the front of each neighboring building. The dusting of snow made everything look deceptively charming, like one of the humans’ greeting cards. “My building doesn’t have security cameras covering the entrances. Are there any around here that you can hack into?”
“I dunno. Depends on their setup. Are you trying to get me arrested?”
“You’re too good for that.”
“Says you. What’s nearby?”
Lore named the businesses.
“Hm. The bank and the corner market are good bets. There’s probably a traffic cam around there, too. Are we looking for anyone in particular?”
“The killer.”
“We need more words than that, dog-boy.”
“I don’t have a description,” Lore said, irritated. “Possibly two people—one to control and one to strike. Or else someone strong enough to hack off a head on his or her own.”
There was silence at the other end of the line. “They took the head? That’s an execution. Who died?”
“The woman we saw walk into the building tonight. The one who made you want to bake cookies.”
He heard Perry’s breathing quicken with anger.
“I’ll get back to you when I have something.”
“Good luck.” A puff of steamy breath followed the last words like a prayer.
Lore snapped the phone shut and considered his next move. First, he wanted to ask Talia about the Latin word on the wall. Maybe it meant something to her. Would she admit it if it did?
A car rushed by, skidding because the driver didn’t know how to handle the slippery road. Lore stepped back, avoiding the clumps of snow kicked up by the tires.
Once he’d talked to Talia, then he’d visit some of the vamp clubs and bars. This wasn’t the work of a local troublemaker. He was looking for a new face, and someone there would have gossip.
Normally, a newcomer asked permission of the ruling monarch to hunt in their territory. It was a means of keeping track of who was where. Sires owned the members of their clan; deserters were punished. Rogues on the run—like Talia—tried to stay off everybody’s radar.
Come to think of it, the ugly vampire he’d arrested earlier was an unknown, too. Interesting. Was Mr. Ugly just another bloodsucker dropping in to cheer on the first-ever fanged candidate? With election fever in high gear, plenty of Undead had come to see history in the making. It would be easy for a murderer to get lost in the crowd.
Great. Just great.
Lore headed back toward his building and Talia, his protective instincts on alert. He went around to the back door, planning to use the stairs. As soon as he rounded the corner into the parking lot, he stopped dead. An unfamiliar scent hung in the air, plain as a billboard to a hellhound’s sense of smell.
Lore’s shoulders hunched, instinctively protecting his neck from attack. The presence was vampire. Male. Dominant. Enemy.
Lore searched the shadows of the parking lot, scanning for a darker shadow, a flutter of movement. Nothing. Even as he stood there, the scent trail began to dull in the cool, wet wind.
The stranger had passed through recently, but hadn’t stayed. That was something to be thankful for. Still focused on Talia, Lore approached the cop standing outside the stairwell door.
“Did anyone come past here in the last few minutes?” Lore asked as he pulled out his driver’s license to prove he lived there.
The cop shook his head. “No.”
Lore pulled open the door and began the climb to his floor. With a low growl, he found the male had gone all the way up to his floor and beyond. Here the scent was fresh.
The cop was out to lunch. Or hypnotized. Vampires could wipe memories from a human’s mind.
It didn’t matter. He would find the source of the stink and remove it from his territory. There was no way a strange vampire was going to roam Lore’s building. Even the big ones taste like chicken. Rotten, disgusting chicken, but whatever.
Shoulders aching with tension, Lore forced himself to stay on task. Talia first. Vampire after. He pushed out of the sixth-floor stairwell door and crossed to his suite.
When he turned the door handle, it was unlocked. A jolt of anxiety raised the hair on his arms. Intruder!
Lore burst into his condo. Empty. He slammed open the bedroom door, chest heaving.
The room was empty.
Talia was gone.
With a snarl, Lore wheeled and ran back into the hall.
Chapter 10
Wednesday, December 29, 1:25 a.m.
101.5 FM
Are you a nonhuman new to Fairview? Call the Good Hearth Cauldron Company for your complimentary welcome pack! No matter your species, we’ll call on you with one of our lovely mini-cauldrons brimful of goodies! Coupons to local businesses! Treats from the Wily Wolf Delicatessen and Baba Yaga’s Restaurant! Even an appetizer platter absolutely free with your first visit to Cthulu’s Sushi House!
If you’re a member of the vampire community, we have representatives standing by to arrange an appointment with Fairview’s Undead registry. With many election visitors in town, appointment times are filling up fast. See us, and secure legal feeding privileges now. Bite safe; don’t bite sorry!
Wednesday, December 29, 1:30 a.m.
Lore’s condo building
Talia’s anger and determination had careened into a brick wall.
She hid in the stairwell, the fire door open just enough to give her a crack to peer through. Carefully, she’d opened the noisy push bar without anyone hearing it. She’d assumed that late at night, the cops would have gone home. She had been wrong. There had to be a dozen still scouring the condo for clues. A few stood just feet away, almost close enough to touch.
If she let go of the door, the mechanism would close with a clatter and reveal her presence. A vampire could run faster than human cops, but she wasn’t exactly sure where she was going to run to. All her ID, her money, her car keys, and her warm clothes were in her condo. Leaving Lore’s bedroom hadn’t improved her circumstances very much at all.
She couldn’t go forward. She couldn’t go back. She was stuck. Talia’s skin shivered with the tension screaming through her muscles.
A uniformed cop walked out of the condo, interrupting someone who looked like a plainclothes detective. The latter was talking to a guy whose jacket was dusted with melting snow.
“Freaking vampires.” The uniform was stowing a camera in his shoulder bag. “That was something else, eh?”
“Just wait till you see a werewolf kill,” said the man with the snow on his coat. “I needed a wet vac to collect the remains.”
The detective snorted. “Nice mental image, Bob. I’m going to remember that next time I have chili.”
“Up yours, too, Baines.”
“It’s not funny,” snapped the cop with the camera. “What’s in there is not freaking funny. Sir.” He added the last with a baleful glance at Baines.
The detective looked sympathetic. “Murder is never funny.”
Bob lifted his voice, yelling into the condo, “You guys done yet? Can I bring in the gurney?”
With a jolt, Talia realized Bob was a paramedic. Or maybe a morgue attendant. He’d come to take Michelle’s body.
“Just about!” came the reply.
No! Talia hadn’t said goodbye. I’m not done. I haven’t had any time with her!
The uniform was still rambling on. “Things are getting worse. It didn’t used to be like this. Not before the monsters came out and started pretending to be all nice and normal. Their ordinary clothes and jobs and homes are just like the feathers on a decoy. Camouflage.”
Bob murmured agreement.
“The nonhumans are not going away,” Baines pointed out. “We know they exist now.”
Bob folded his arms. “Then we should kill them. Plain and simple.”
Talia shuddered, the hand gripping the door handle giving a slight twitch. It rattled faintly, making her still heart give a single thump of alarm.
“Whoa, Bob.” Baines held up his hands, palms out. “Don’t hold back. Seriously, though, is this any worse than a human kill?”
“That’s a fair fight, sir,” said camera cop. “The monsters are too strong for one of us.”
That was true. Even without Undead strength, how could a human best the pure animal hunger in a vampire? Our thirst is a ravenous, selfish monster. Destroying others to slake it? Natural as breathing. From the first moment she woke to the night, Talia had learned how flimsy inhibitions were. Beneath that tissue-paper layer of reason was pure, bestial id.
“Okay, Bob,” someone yelled from inside the condo. “Come and get it!”
“Just wait till they get themselves elected.” The paramedic’s voice was dour with warning. “They’ll turn our own laws against us, and even monster lovers like you will start to see just how helpless we are.”
Baines frowned. “Part of me wants to agree with you, but the evidence doesn’t support that way of thinking.”
The paramedic gave a short laugh. “Then I’ll bring her out so you can take a good look.” With that, he collected his gurney from farther down the hallway and pushed it into the condo.
Talia’s e
yes blurred with tears. She’s not evidence. She’s not a thing—she was a warm, living woman! A wave of hatred for the men rose in Talia’s belly, followed by a flood of shame.
She was the monster. It was her presence in Michelle’s life that had caused an ugly, violent death. Talia deserved whatever low opinion they had of her kind.
Baines turned to the uniformed cop. “All right, you want to arrest a vampire, here’s a reason I’ll buy into. I checked the registry for rogue vampires.”
Registry? What registry?
“And?”
“The dead woman’s cousin, Talia Rostova, is on there. A big-shot vampire from down east was her sire, and he’s looking for her. Apparently, she’s trouble. A thief, among other things.”
Crap! Why did I keep my own name? What an idiot! Of course the sires had a registry. It was a simple way of finding rogues so that they could be returned to their clans for punishment. And why wouldn’t they enlist the human police to help out?
Suddenly, switching identities seemed like a basic precaution. Naturally, there would be forgers, people who made new identities—but she didn’t know who any of them were. That was way too James Bond. She’d counted on sheer distance to hide her, and the fact no vampire king would dare to enter Queen Omara’s domain—especially not Belenos. He’d learned that the hard way.
She’d counted wrong.
I’m such an incompetent fool. The Hunters had trained her to fight, but not to hide. Now she would pay the price for that oversight.
No, Michelle’s memory would pay the price, because they’d be looking for Talia instead of the real killer. Suddenly, making sure justice was served seemed more important than anything else.
It was the only thing she could do for Michelle.
The gurney came rattling out of the condo. All that was left of her cousin was a misshapen lump in a zippered bag. Talia felt a scream building in her throat. She began to shake so violently, she had to brace the door with her foot. Her shuddering rattled the safety bar.
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