Nightwalker

by Rhonda L. Print

“I am not Joaquín,” he objected with a touch of anger to his voice. “I know who and what you are, perhaps even more than you know yourself.”

  I rested my head into the phone. I so did not want to have this conversation. “Look, Ian, I have a ton of painting ahead of me right now. Can we talk about this another time?”

  “Would you care for some help?”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle. “A painting vampire?”

  “I find manual labor helps to clear my mind. We also need to discuss what you said when last we met.”

  “When I told Joaquín to leave me the hell alone or when I told you to get a grave?” I asked, letting the sarcasm sit heavy in my voice.

  “You cut me to the quick, my love, but no. We need to discuss Zarendia.”

  “Shit.”

  I looked around the rooms scattered with drywall dust, the white patches showing like white bruises against the walls. I was looking forward to doing the work. I, too, found it took my mind off bigger issues, at least for a while.

  “Some help would be nice, but Ian, I cannot promise you anything more than friendship.”

  “It is a start, my love, I will be there soon.” He hung up before I could say anything and left me staring at the phone.

  Hours later, I popped the top off a can of coke and offered it to Ian. “You’re a pretty good painter for a vampire.” I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the room.

  We’d painted the kitchen and living room, all before the sun rose. What little furniture I had left sat covered in white cloths in the center of the living room like low-flying ghosts.

  Ian stepped behind me, slid his arms around my hips and laced his fingers together at my stomach. “You’re a pretty good painter for a…” He hesitated.

  I tilted my head back and looked at him. “For a what?”

  His face grew somber. “I think that is a question you need to answer for yourself.”

  I stepped away and turned to face him. “I don’t know if that was a good save or a cop out.”

  “Perhaps both.” He leaned in to kiss me.

  I held my hands against his chest to stop him. “Don’t, Ian.”

  “What?” He shrugged with an innocent look on his face. “Don’t ‘friends’ kiss.” He made little quotation marks with his long, slender fingers.

  I laughed. “Not like you do.”

  He lifted a shoulder. “More’s the pity.”

  I was about to fire off a comeback at him when my phone rang. Joaquín’s number flashed on the screen. I pressed the ignore button.

  “Are you not talking to young Joaquín either?” He tried to hide his amusement and failed.

  “I’m not even sure I’m talking to you yet,” I shot back.

  “He still has strong feelings for you. I can sense them.”

  I blew out a breath. “Well, I guess that’s his problem then.”

  “Not very forgiving, are you, my love?”

  I looked up directly into his eyes with all the sincerity I had. “No, I am not.”

  I let out a groan as my phone rang again. This time Wilson’s number popped on the screen. “Hey Wilson, what’s up?”

  “You didn’t answer before, what’s up with you?” Wilson replied gruffly.

  “Are you calling for Joaquín?” I rolled my eyes.

  “No,” he answered sharply. “He was calling for me.”

  My spine straightened to attention as I listened to the briefing and directions to the latest crime scene; then flipped my phone shut.

  “You must leave.” Ian wrapped his arms around me as if reluctant to let me go.

  “Of course, you heard all that.”

  “Most of it, you know vampires have exceptional hearing. Allow me to go with you.”

  “I’ll be with Wilson and half the police department, but thanks anyway.” I held up my hands as he began to protest.

  “I can take care of myself, Ian, but thank you.” I lay my cheek against his chest and breathed in the comforting scent of him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Female, approximately mid twenties. Chest wound along with multiple puncture wounds on neck, wrists and thighs, chafing at the wrists and ankles indicates subject was restrained. Appears that the chest wound was the fatal wound, autopsy to confirm. There is minimal blood on scene, victim was either killed elsewhere or…” I let my voice trail off as I spoke into the recorder I kept with the rest of my gear. I bent down to examine the chest wounds more closely. I clicked off the recorder.

  “Hell, Wilson, it looks like her chest was peeled open. Where the hell is her blood?”

  Her left breast flapped off the side of her body. Her heart had been ripped out with the same precision you’d use to yank a weed from your garden. The lack of blood accentuated the remaining veins and flesh as they stuck out at odd angles from the hole in her chest. I stood and scanned the dark alley we stood in for the soul of the victim but found nothing.

  “Anything?” Wilson asked.

  I shook my head. “Nothing.” My voice faltered.

  “If this is too much I can take you off the case,” he offered.

  “Not a snowball’s chance in hell, Wilson.”

  He placed his hand on my shoulder. “I can’t expect you to…”

  I shrugged his hand away. “Are you questioning my ability to do my job?”

  “No, of course not, Leah.”

  “Then let me do it.”

  He gave me one short nod.

  “Have you notified the feds?” I guessed.

  “Yeah, turns out they have a special division for this kind of shit.”

  “I know.”

  He turned a shocked expression toward me. “You’ve worked with them before, haven’t you, Leah?”

  “Yeah, I’ve worked with them.”

  “Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You know I can’t tell you half the shit I’m called in on, no more than you could tell me anything if I wasn’t involved with the case.”

  He sighed. “Was it the same as this?” He motioned toward the body.

  I shook my head. “No, not like this, the victims’ throats were slit, no body parts missing.”

  “Was it,” he waved his hands in front of his face, “you know?”

  “Yeah, it was supernatural.”

  “Shit, Leah! Can you give me details?”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out. I took a confidentiality oath on every suspected or actual preternatural case I worked. I was subject to professional and personal implications if I broke confidence. The government was very, very serious about not letting this kind of shit leak to the public. Go figure, tell the public that monsters are real and mass hysteria would break out. Ignorance is bliss.

  “Not unless it directly involves these victims.”

  Wilson fisted his hands and paced in front of me.

  “It’s the feds, Wilson. They’d blackball my ass in a New York minute if I broke confidentiality! I’m sorry.”

  “No … no, you’re right. I’ll browbeat the bastards myself when they get here. Would there be any information on the wire?”

  I thought about that for a minute. Most preternatural crimes were filed with bogus information to conceal the truth. If the lie worked well enough, it might have even been officially filed. Since the case had been solved and written off as a serial-killer case, there might have just been something on the National Incident-Based Reporting System, or NIBRS for short.

  “Maybe, look under serial killer cases from roughly three years ago.”

  “I’ll get on it. Can you tell me if you closed the case?”

  “Yeah.” I looked up into his eyes. “I closed it.”

  What I couldn’t tell him was that I’d shot the vamp at point blank range. He was so involved in feeding on the screaming victim in his grasp that he hadn’t even heard me walk up to him. I shot him once in the head, then again in the heart. The victim, unfortunately, died from her injuries. It was a sloppy feeding. This was just on
e of many incidents I couldn’t tell anyone, but since it was a highly publicized serial-murder case, I figured I was safe enough with Wilson poking around into it.

  I drove home as the evening sun turned the lingering clouds into pink streaks across the sky. I had told Wilson everything I could. Until the feds decided to intervene, my hands were tied. If I let something out that they weren’t ready to tell yet they’d take my investigator’s license and make damn sure I never got it back. I’d taken an oath and until told otherwise, I’d keep it. I felt guilty, but at least I wasn’t the one pulling Wilson into the dark side of the supernatural and as far as I could tell, him knowing wouldn’t have changed a damn thing.

  I rolled down my window about halfway to let some of the crisp evening air in. I hadn’t gotten nearly enough sleep lately and it was beginning to wear on me. I turned onto the long gravel road that led home when I heard a low growl come from the backseat. I checked the rear-view mirror and saw the shadow of a man begin to form. I took a deep breath and cringed at the acrid scent of demon. The bastards stink.

  This day just kept getting better and better.

  If this shit kept up I was going to have to take a few demonology classes to learn how to protect myself against them. I inwardly groaned at the prospect of taking more courses, but I really didn’t have a choice if I was going to keep running into the damn things.

  I kept the truck steady as I switched my gaze back and forth between the road ahead and the demon in the backseat.

  The timing was perfect, as there wouldn’t be another person on this road. The demon had planned the ambush well. I couldn’t hurt it in mist form and wanted it to think it still had the element of surprise so I kept driving but pressed my foot a little further on the gas pedal. The figure remained silent and grew more solid. I flicked on my bright headlights as I floored it, kicking up a cloud of dust behind me. The speedometer indicated near seventy miles an hour as the demon solidified behind me. I pulled my seatbelt tight against me in one quick jerk and veered off the road toward the big mesquite tree that stood just around the bend. The truck came to a stop with the sickening sound of breaking glass and twisting metal. I felt a rush of air as the demon was thrown forward through the windshield. I had a moment to see that it was still in solid form before my airbag deployed, momentarily blinding me. The force of the airbag knocked my breath from my lungs and threw my head back in my seat. I gasped for air as I pushed the remnants of the airbag out of my line of site. My windshield was broken from the inside out. The remaining fragments of broken glass were stained with red. It gave it the appearance of a macabre mosaic piece of art. I smiled triumphantly. A demon body is just as fragile as a human body in solid form and this one hadn’t wearing a seat belt. Sucked to be him.

  Every muscle in my body hurt as I pushed against the door of my truck. I had pulled my gun out, just in case there was anything left of the demon. I didn’t have enough strength left to get the jammed door open and since the truck’s engine had died, getting the electric windows down enough to crawl out was now out of the equation. I shoved my hand into my pocket to retrieve my phone. I called 911 and was routed to the reservation police station, the nearest one to the accident. Lily answered and in a very calm, professional voice told me that help was on the way. I asked her to let the responding officers know that I was armed, then shut the phone and laid my head back to wait. I kept my gun, safety off, firmly in my grasp in my lap.

  The shrill of sirens broke the serenity of the crickets singing in the moonlight. I had tried without success to shove open the door a few more times and finally gave it up as futile. I flexed my ankles and knees as best as I could in the cramped confines of the truck, checking for injuries. Everything moved and everything hurt but nothing felt too serious. I closed my eyes and an image of Ian flashed before me. I jerked open my eyes again, fearing that I was losing consciousness. The sirens grew louder and louder until they were accompanied by the red and blue lights of the squad car and ambulance. The sirens stopped and Aaron appeared at the window with a flashlight beaming into the darkness of the truck. I winced as the light pierced my eyes. “Hang on, Leah. We’ll have you out in no time.” He called out to the ambulance as another siren pierced the night.

  Joaquín slid to a stop in the gravel of the road in his effort to get to the car quickly.

  “It’s stuck,” I pointed out as he yanked on the door.

  It didn’t budge. “Get the pry bar out of the trunk, Aaron.” Aaron ran back to the car as Joaquín put his hand through the partially down window. He stroked my hair. “Hold on, baby. We’ll have you out in a minute. What hurts?”

  “Everything, including my hair.” I croaked, “But nothing feels too serious. I could use some water.”

  He called back to Aaron who came running with the pry bar, a blanket and a bottle of water. Joaquín twisted open the cap on the water bottle and passed it through the window. I took a long pull on the bottle and felt the cold water flow all the way down to my stomach. I groaned in relief and took another long drink.

  “Cover your head with the blanket in case the window shatters.” Joaquín stuffed the blanket through the window.

  The paramedics stood by with a gurney and medical boxes while Joaquín worked the door open with the bar. The steel groaned under the strain and finally popped open. The paramedics all but shoved Joaquín out of the way.

  A short time later after I was poked with the needle to deliver intravenous fluids into me and a neck brace was firmly wrapped around me, I was gently placed on a backboard; then lifted from the truck and set on the waiting gurney. “This really isn’t necessary,” I complained for the umpteenth time. “Nothing is broken. I’m just a little sore.” I winced as the gurney hit a bump in the road.

  Joaquín leaned over me just before I was lifted into the ambulance. “Leah, I will arrest you if I have to. One way or another, you are going to the hospital.”

  I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. I was too tired to curse and didn’t want to argue.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I’d been x-rayed, poked, prodded and proclaimed well enough to go home when Ian walked into the room. There was no reason for me to stay overnight in the hospital, nothing was broken. The airbag and seat belt had done their job and while I ached all over, I was left only with bruises and a bad case of road rash. Alli had stayed with me long after her shift ended.

  I had answered all of Joaquín’s and Wilson’s questions as best I could under the circumstances. As I expected, the only evidence that a demon had been in the car with me was the blood on the windshield. It would be written up as a car/animal collision that caused me to lose control of the vehicle.

  Ian’s walk was tense and determined as he crossed the room to the bed I sat on. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me possessively.

  “How did you…?”

  “I called him.” Wilson smiled unapologetically.

  Ian leaned back against the window seat, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

  Joaquín glared first at Ian and then Wilson.

  The look Wilson flashed back at Joaquín made it clear that there would be no arguments tonight.

  “I’d like a copy of your report by morning, Joaquín. I’ll make sure a copy of ours is faxed over to you.” Wilson voice was commanding, leaving no room for disagreement.

  Joaquín reached his hand out and clasped mine. “Would you like me to drive you home, Leah?” His eyes were pleading with a hint of irritation.

  I squeezed his hand gently. “Thanks, Joaquín.” I took my hand and wiped it across my eyebrows. “I appreciate everything, I really do.”

  “I will see her safely home.” Ian pushed himself off the window seat. “If that is acceptable to you, my love.”

  Anger flashed across Joaquín’s eyes and he winced as if struck. He ran both his hands through his hair and took a step back.

  “You two keep this testosterone-poisoning shit up and I’ll walk home.” I n
arrowed my eyes at both of them. “I feel like a damn wishbone being pulled in half and I’m too damn tired and sore to argue.”

  “My apologies.” Ian bowed gracefully.

  “Joaquín? I need to speak with Ian. Thank you for everything.” My voice softened.

  Alli walked over to me. She hugged me tightly and whispered, “Call me if you need anything.”

  “I will, I promise,” I whispered back.

  I gave Wilson a quick hug and watched as he ushered Joaquín and Alli out of the room.

  I slid off the bed and headed toward the door.

  Ian fell into step beside me, gently placing his hand at the small of my back to guide me. “Do you want to tell me what happened or shall I read it in the police report tomorrow?”

  I stopped and turned my head to look at him. “Not here. Please. Take me home.”

  “As you wish, my love.”

  * * * *

  “The demon appeared in your car, you saw it solidify in the rear-view mirror and decided your best course of action was to crash into a tree?” Ian sounded partly amused and irritated at the same time. Mostly irritated.

  I leaned against the kitchen counter and sipped my coffee. “Pretty much.”

  “Do you not have any regard for your own safety?” Ian’s eyes grew dark but his face remained impassive. He was definitely pissed off now. Funny how I’d learned to read his body language.

  “I have plenty of ‘regard’ for my own damn safety. I was alone on a deserted road with a demon intent on killing me riding in the back seat. Sending his ass flying through the windshield seemed like a better idea than blindly shooting at him and hoping he remained solid long enough for me to kill him. It obviously hadn’t occurred to him that a car can be deadlier than a gun.”

  “Exactly my point. You were alone.” I could see the muscles in his jaw tensing.

  Yep. He was definitely pissed.

  “Tell me about Zarendia.”

  I blinked long and hard at the sudden change in topic. “What about her?”

  “You said you didn’t need me to protect you no matter what Zarendia warned. Actually, you yelled it as you stormed out of my home.”