To Love and Serve

by Caridad Piñeiro

  With the meeting concluded, the other slayers left, until only Evangeline and Xander remained.

  “Give us a moment, please, Xander,” Evangeline said, and he scurried out into the hallway.

  Evangeline closed the door behind him and leaned toward Michaela.

  “Don’t think for a moment that any of us have forgotten what you are. We only tolerate you in our midst, so the moment you fuck up—”

  “I won’t, Evangeline.”

  “You better not.” The woman marched out, leaving Michaela staring at the door, well aware of the penalty for failure: a slow and painful death.

  …

  Ryder and his friend Diego approached the table in the temporary morgue they’d put together in the basement of the Blood Bank. It now held not one body, but two. Members of the Vampire Council had gathered to view the kills and discuss the situation. Ryder wasn’t on the Council, but he’d been at the club when the woman’s body was discovered a few hours earlier. The young vampiress was found right next to the rear entrance of the bar, in an alley just a couple of blocks from where the first body had been discovered. She’d been killed in exactly the same way as the first—throat slashed down to the bone and a stake driven through her heart.

  Ryder had a bad feeling about this. Really bad. He wasn’t too familiar with slayers, but he’d been around Diana long enough to recognize the signs of a serial killer.

  Foley shook his head regretfully at the remains of his former waitress. “She was so nice, and a hard worker. She’ll be missed.”

  “Was she feeding from the humans?” Diego asked.

  “Not unless they asked for a bite, but even if she did, she wouldn’t drain them. We all know better than that.”

  They turned at the squeak of the basement door as two more Council elders, Hadrian and Maximilian, came in.

  Hadrian was, as always, immaculately dressed in a three-button suit that screamed fancy financial type. Not that Hadrian had lifted a finger for centuries. He’d accumulated an insane amount of money in his nearly 2,000 years of existence, plus he’d backed Maximilian’s high-end fashion house, which was wildly successful.

  As businesslike and somber as Hadrian appeared, Maximilian was equally flamboyant. His plum-colored suit looked like a throwback to Nehru jacket days and was coupled with bright pink high-top sneakers that matched the streaks in his hair.

  Maximilian halted halfway to the bodies on the tables, his mouth agape with horror, but stoic Hadrian pushed forward to stand beside the two dead vampires.

  His gaze traveled over them with undisguised worry. “I had hoped the first staking was an aberration.”

  Ryder understood why. Hadrian was blessed with one of those rare gifts in a vampire’s life—his wife of nearly two years had given birth nine months after being turned. So he had better reason than most for keeping the peace between the undead and the slayers.

  “What news have you brought?” Diego asked Hadrian.

  “There’s no word on the grapevine, which is surprising.” Hadrian glanced back at Maximilian.

  “No news, mio amico,” Maximilian confirmed with a wave of his bejeweled fingers.

  Foley crossed his arms. “The vampires won’t be silent after this one.”

  “No, they won’t,” Hadrian replied, weariness in his tones. Of everyone in the room, he’d suffered the most at the hands of humans. Slayers had killed his first family during a riot in his Roman vampire ghetto.

  “We can’t wait on this, Hadrian. We need to determine if a true slayer did this,” Diego urged.

  Hadrian gave a curt nod. “We can take samples, although from the looks of those throat wounds, I have no doubt silver nitrate was used.”

  Ryder had no doubts either. The wound on the first vamp had not closed, a sure sign that some kind of silver contamination had prevented healing. He’d heard that using silver was a slayer practice, and their stakes usually had a St. Andrew’s cross carved into the wood near the handle. To his knowledge, only slayers used that symbolism.

  Foley gestured to the dead vampires. “But why would someone cut their throats and stake them? They would have bled out anyway, thanks to the silver poisoning.”

  “Part of the ritual,” Ryder murmured.

  “Yes, that’s how the slayers do their executions,” Diego agreed. “But if these two were sanctioned, we should have heard from their Council by now.” He shook his head. “There’s something off about this.”

  “The stakes are definitely overkill,” Hadrian agreed. “Maybe to make us think the slayers are behind it. Normally, they use silver on their weapons for defense or punishment. Not as a primary kill method.”

  “So if silver nitrate were used, then it would have to be a slayer, wouldn’t it?” Maximilian asked.

  Diego frowned. “Possibly. Unless some human is acting as a copycat…which is highly unlikely. For a human to know about slayer rituals would be unheard of. Regardless, I’ll find someone who can process the samples for us.” He glanced uneasily at Ryder.

  Which made him wonder just who Diego had in mind.

  “You’ll keep us posted?” Hadrian asked.

  Diego nodded. After a shared glance, Maximilian headed for the door, while Hadrian lingered for a moment longer. Facing Foley, he said, “Warn your employees to be careful, and keep an eye on your undead patrons. Whoever did this is already hunting for their next kill.”

  Chapter Nine

  “Absolutely not. I do not want Diana or Melissa involved in this. In fact, I don’t even want them aware of what’s going on.” Ryder paced in his office at The Lair, his strides sharp with anger. He’d been afraid of this. The look his friend had given him at the club had set off all sorts of alarm bells.

  “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t necessary,” Diego said.

  “I’ll do the tests,” Ryder said. “You forget I was once a physician. It’s simple enough to take the samples and test for silver nitrate. A copper tree should do it.”

  Diego tugged down his jacket sleeves and smoothed the lapels, as if suiting himself with armor. Then he said the words Ryder had dreaded hearing. “If it is a rogue slayer at work, and their Council will do nothing to help us, Diana could be a big help.”

  “Diana has her own life. And she’s already risked it on our behalf. For your Ramona, I might add. I won’t ask her to endanger herself again.”

  Diego pushed out a breath. “If someone is targeting our kind, we should use every resource available to catch them. But we’ll try to handle this on our own.”

  His friend didn’t add the “for now.” But when Ryder met his gaze, the meaning was clear. If they didn’t catch this bloodthirsty bastard soon, all bets were off.

  …

  The vampires were starting to run scared. The Slayer scanned the crowd in The Lair with satisfaction.

  There were more vampires at this club tonight than there had been just a few days ago. Probably because they thought they would be safer here than at the Blood Bank.

  He chuckled. Think again.

  Though, he did want to get a better lay of the land before selecting his next prey. Patience was a virtue, and it was especially true for hunters. They needed to wait for just the right moment to separate their prey from the herd and make the kill. The Lair was definitely geared more toward those who only danced along the edge of danger, unlike the hard-core humans and undead at the Blood Bank. The crowd here was a mix of Goths, poseurs, and students out for a flirtation with the dark side.

  A live band played onstage, the driving beat of the bass pulsing through the crowd. It was dark, with most of the illumination on the dance floor where a crush of bodies moved to the heavy heartbeats of the music.

  Overhead, an irregular maze of catwalks hung from the ceiling and held wires, ropes, plus an assortment of lights and mirrored balls that shot random blasts of light onto the crowd below. The only regular lighting was a row of red spotlights above the long bar, making the stainless steel top look as if it was wet with blood.<
br />
  He pushed through the mass of humanity to the bar. It would make a good spot to scope out the crowd. As he checked out the menu of drinks posted along one wall, he caught sight of what appeared to be mummified bats—hundreds of them hung from the ceiling and the irregular walls, which had been painted and shaped to look like cave formations.

  Chuckling at the owner’s macabre taste, he skimmed the menu. That, too, offered drink names that conjured images of drinking blood, the traits of bats, and rituals for morphing into demons and monsters. After flagging the human bartender he ordered a Vamp Venom, a variation on a Bloody Mary laced with hot sauce.

  He tossed it back and the burn warmed his gullet and landed in his stomach. Despite the heat, or maybe because of it, he ordered another and scanned the crowd.

  So many humans. Possibly too many, as potential witnesses. Then again, the vampires weren’t expecting an attack here. That would make them more careless, but more important, it would stir up fear even faster once they thought another safe haven was gone.

  Good.

  His own life had been like that once, full of fear and uncertainty. But no longer. Now he called the shots, and his enemies would be the ones hiding in some dark corner, cowering in terror.

  …

  With Diego looking over his shoulder, Ryder used the centrifuge in Melissa’s lab to separate the blood cells from the distilled water used to wash the throat wounds of the staked vampires. It didn’t take long. Pouring off the clear liquid into a small beaker, he fashioned a length of copper wire into a small, tree-like structure and dipped it into the liquid. Minute threads of pale silver slowly formed on the wire, and the liquid turned a pale blue.

  He turned to Diego and held it up.

  “Definitely traces of silver nitrate. So you’re saying this fits the pattern for a true slayer kill?”

  “Between the nitrate and the St. Andrew’s Cross carved on the stakes, it’s highly possible. But as far as we know, neither of these vampires drained anyone,” Diego said. “There’s no reason for them to have been sanctioned.”

  Ryder didn’t like the situation any way it played out. “Do you think the Slayer Council will care that someone is doing non-sanctioned terminations?”

  “There are rules in place, meant to keep order and avoid another war. Hopefully they’ll agree and help us put a stop to the killings.”

  Ryder leaned a hip on the lab bench and tucked his arms across his chest. “By ‘us’ I hope you mean the Vampire Council.”

  Diego dragged a hand through the spiky wisps of his stylishly gelled blond hair and nodded. “We’ll gather the elders. All of them. Jeremy should be back from London by now. We need to decide how best to reach out to the slayers.”

  Relief swamped Ryder that Diego hadn’t pressed for Diana’s involvement. But if the two Councils wouldn’t work together, someone else would have to step in to investigate the murders. Unfortunately, the one person who had the skills to do that was the last person who should. Especially now that her suspension was almost over and Hernandez had her reviewing a different case. But Ryder kept his fears to himself. No sense giving Diego ideas.

  After his friend had departed, he went out into the apartment to face his former keeper and her husband. The worry on their faces was clear.

  “There’s trouble, isn’t there?” Melissa twined her fingers with Sebastian’s. They stood together now just as he hoped he and Diana would do one day.

  “It won’t involve you. I promise.”

  “And what about my sister?” Sebastian demanded. “Can you make the same promise about her?” The tilt of his chin reminded Ryder too much of his lover in a defiant mood.

  Ryder gave a grim smile. “Doesn’t matter what I want. Diana is the one who will make that choice.”

  Chapter Ten

  It had been hours since Diana heard the front door open and close. Apparently Ryder had called it an early night.

  She ignored the vague stirring of annoyance that he hadn’t come by her office before retiring. The welcome mat wasn’t out when her door was closed, so he was just respecting her wishes. But she missed him.

  Fatigue bit deep from the many hours she’d spent working on the case, weakening her muscles and creating that weird chill in her core she’d experienced off and on since being contaminated with Ryder’s blood. At first the sensation had been infrequent, but lately it moved like a glacier inching across the tundra, slowly and inexorably spreading the chill from her core to her extremities until it was time for another treatment.

  The chill was a symptom that she’d pushed too hard these past two days, spending impossibly long hours with her ass in the chair or pacing before the evidence-laden boards. As much as she wanted to return to work full time, it worried her that she couldn’t even handle intense desk duty at home without her body’s weakness threatening to take her out. She needed some rest.

  Shutting down her computer, she rose, and dawdled gathering her papers. At some point she would have to head to the bedroom. And Ryder. And deal with what had happened during the keeper’s kiss.

  Until a few months ago, the aphaeresis treatments had worked well. When she got the transfusions she’d felt almost normal, and her relationship with Ryder had flourished and deepened. She’d even held hope for her future, despite her suspension from work. But when her body no longer found the same relief from the treatments, Melissa had cautiously suggested that a keeper’s kiss, with a small infusion of Ryder’s blood, might contain the contamination going on in her body.

  The keeper’s kiss had done exactly as Melissa hoped. It had also brought intense new joy and pleasure to their lovemaking. But the strain on her lover to subdue his demon became more evident with each encounter.

  Worse, she’d felt her own darkness rise up in vivid response. The violence within her had surged and cried out for release—which frightened her even more than Ryder’s tenuous control over his.

  She needed to deal with her turbulent emotions. With her uncertainty about what to do if the treatments failed and the contamination in her body stole her life away.

  Soon.

  Since that lost year, she had worked hard not to run away from any truth, even if she wanted to. She wouldn’t start now. She intended to go upstairs, slip into bed, and confront Ryder.

  She just…needed a little more time to prepare.

  …

  Ryder should have stayed at The Lair until closing time. Not that his staff needed him there for the place to run smoothly. Until Diana had come into his life, he’d been at either his bar or his restaurant virtually every night…mainly because he had nothing else to do.

  Maybe he should have gone to Diego’s when he’d called wanting to speak to him in person about Council business.

  But Ryder had wanted to be home instead.

  That had been hours ago, and Diana was still in her office. He’d be damned if he let her avoid him again. They had to face what had happened. Because of all the places he could go, the only place he wanted to be was here with her.

  Bolting from the bed, he dashed down the stairs, taking them two at a time. His feet barely touched the polished hardwood floors until he jerked to a halt in front of her door.

  Still closed. He heard the rustle of papers behind it, but he was tired of waiting.

  He flung the door open. She spun around with a shocked gasp, papers clutched to her chest.

  Her surprise flipped to anger.

  “Ever hear of knocking?” She skimmed her gaze up and down his naked body, and she arched a dark brow. “Or pants?”

  He smiled, loving her brashness, experiencing a brief moment of pleasure because his nakedness brought a flush to her pale cheeks and a glitter of life to those tired eyes. But the moment was spoiled by the shadows beneath her eyes and the weary droop of her shoulders.

  He sauntered toward her and only stopped when inches separated them.

  Her hands fluttered nervously as she set aside the papers. Then she laced her fingers together
, and raked her gaze along his body again. This close, it was impossible not to hear the skip in her heartbeat and smell her growing arousal. It stirred his desire. Passion had never been an issue between them, but there was something more important binding them together now.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  Her gaze dipped down again to his growing erection before fixing on his face. “Seems to me you have more in mind than just talk.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Were you really still working? Or are you just avoiding me?”

  “I’m not avoiding you.” She snagged his hand off her face and gripped it tightly, as if afraid of his touch.

  “I think you are.”

  …

  Diana sucked in a slow breath and held it, battling with what to say. Ryder waited, no doubt expecting her response to be as sharp as a jab. Instead, she feinted.

  “I was working on an important case.” She gestured to the papers and photos around them. She was so not ready for this.

  “We’re more important than work,” he reminded, tugging his hand from hers and running his fingertip across her cheek, just below the circle of fatigue beneath her eye.

  She looked away, unable to argue with him, but she still needed more time to get her head straight from the chaos running rampant in her mind. He dropped his hand to gently clasp her chin and urge her to face him again. She swiped her hand across his arm, breaking the contact, and shoved past him.

  He chased after her and grabbed for her arm. “Don’t run away from me again, Diana.” She had never tolerated being manhandled, and she wasn’t about to let him get away with it. The violence inside her burst free and she blocked his attempt to catch her with a painful slash of her forearm.

  “Don’t.”

  Ryder stepped back from her, eyes narrowed. “Don’t what? Don’t touch you? Don’t love you? ” His body shook with anger and he fisted his hands so tightly his skin was almost a translucent white.

  She wished she knew what she wanted. But she was certain of one thing. “I love you, Ryder. Don’t ever doubt that.”