Diana couldn’t make out what he said. “Diego?”
The vampire elder sat back on his haunches, his hand still locked around the slayer’s as he comforted him. “You need to go. Bartholomew will be hunting again, and there is nothing more you can do here. I’ll take care of him.”
Diana felt heartsick, but she trusted Ryder’s friend. “I know you will. Come on.” She tugged on Jesus’s arm. “We need to go catch this fucker.”
As they headed up the long staircase, the adrenaline driving her began to tap out. Her knees wobbled, and she braced a hand on the wall. Jesus was there immediately, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her upright.
She grabbed his shoulder, fighting the weakness sweeping through her body.
“Diana?”
“I just need a moment.” She sucked in a deep breath, harnessing what strength she had left. They still had one more thing to do before she could give in to the weakness. “We need to go to The Lair. His ego is so big, he’ll think he’s home free, now that he’s taken care of these loose ends.”
“Are you up to it?” Jesus asked with a frown.
She nodded, shaky but determined. The time spent with the wounded slayers had given her heart and breathing a chance to slow to nearly normal. She reached deep for the last of her reserves. Despite her protest, Jesus kept his arm around her waist.
“God save me from stubborn women,” he grumbled. “Just accept the damned help so we can move faster. We need to roll.”
They made good time, quickly climbing the stairs to ground level, then hurrying through the lobby and out to where Jesus had parked his car. He started the engine with a roar, looked over at her, and said, “Let’s go get that son of a bitch.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Ryder carefully laid Michaela on the treatment table in Melissa’s back room, wincing at the bloody mess. He’d hated to yank out the stake, but leaving it in would likely have killed her because of the silver contamination. Even with the tight pressure and a makeshift bandage, she’d bled through the packing. Her skin was parchment white. Her limbs were limp and lifeless as he cut away her blood- and sweat-soaked clothes.
“Wooden stake soaked in silver nitrate. Nasty. It pierced her lung. No pneumothorax, thankfully,” Melissa murmured as she examined her. “In low doses, silver nitrate is an external antiseptic, but in a higher amount, it’s corrosive.”
She set up an IV and inserted the needle into Michaela’s arm.
“If we can get her to feed, her hybrid cells may be able to battle the poison,” Ryder said as he gently removed the packing from the wound in her side. Fresh blood welled up. If he could flush the area clean, she might begin to heal.
He grabbed a wash bottle of sterile saline solution. The first squirt into the wound had Michaela moaning and shifting on the table.
“It’ll feel better in a moment,” he said reassuringly. “You can help us by getting stronger.”
Melissa brought a blood bag to her mouth, but the young slayer jerked her head away.
“Not like them. Don’t feed.”
He’d experienced those same emotions in the days and weeks after he’d been turned. For centuries, he’d denied what he was, until Diana had helped him make peace with his state. But Michaela didn’t have centuries or weeks or even days left.
“Do you want to live?” he asked.
The look of desperation she gave him said it all.
As disgusted as she might be about giving in to the demon, she let it loose. With a hungry growl, her eyes went bright and the nascent bumps on her teeth exploded into short fangs. She sank them through the plastic of the bag even as tears trickled from her still-human eyes.
Melissa stroked her hair and murmured, “Always choose life, Michaela. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
As Ryder gently cleaned the wound, the bleeding slowly stopped. But the edges were ragged and gaped open. “This needs stitches.”
Melissa took away the empty blood bag. “I can do it if you need to go.”
“No, I can handle it.” He gathered what he needed and went to work, trying to keep away distracting thoughts about what was happening to Diana.
Jesus had trusted Ryder with something precious.
He had to trust Jesus would be just as careful with his precious lover.
…
The wail of their siren filled the night, and their blue and red lights flashed as Diana and Jesus raced to The Lair. They’d called Detective Daly and he was on his way with police backup. Jesus took a corner and shot up the ramp to the West Side Highway so fast the car caught air when they hit a bump. Diana braced her hands against the seat and dash, but the impact of tires on pavement still rattled her bones. Every molecule in her body ached.
Jesus was grimly silent as he wove through the scattered traffic where the highway ended on 12th Avenue. Abruptly, he asked, “Is this what it’s been like for you since you met Ryder? This crazy wedge between your world and his?”
She sighed. “Yeah. There were many days I dragged my ass into the office dead-tired. Like, tomorrow, I’m guessing.” She let out a shaky laugh.
“Not betraying his world, helping him during your suspension, almost cost you your job.”
“The least I could do. Ryder saved my life, in more ways than one.”
“Seems to me he’s taking it now. I can see what it took out of you to make that trek through the tunnels tonight.” He swerved around a taxi pulling into the heliport on 30th.
Diana couldn’t deny it. Even now her arms and legs were leaden with fatigue and her skin chilled from the sweat she’d worked up earlier. Her heartbeat had slowed, but an ache remained deep in her core.
No, she wasn’t well, but she was alive, and she intended to stay that way… one way or another.
“I’ll survive somehow,” she said. “Don’t count me out just yet.”
He smiled at her.
“Not a chance. You’re too hard-headed to die.” Then his smile faltered and he swallowed. “Damn.”
She didn’t have to ask what he was thinking of. Or, rather, whom. “She’ll be okay. Melissa is an amazing doctor.”
When he looked her way, she saw something she’d never seen before in his eyes—fear. “You think so? That wooden stake. I’ve never—Christ, it’s fucked up.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. And as she looked at him, she saw the depth of his feelings for Michaela. Her lips parted in surprise. “Oh, God, Jesus. I didn’t realize… ”
He blew out a breath. “I love her, Di. More than I ever thought possible. It scares the shit out of me because I know our two worlds are bound to destroy each other at some point.”
Diana wished she could tell him differently, but she couldn’t. Instead, she offered up the only thing she could. Hope.
“Don’t worry. Love will always find a way.”
…
Ryder smiled, pleased with the strong, steady pulse beneath his fingertips. A healthy flush marked Michaela’s cheeks, and her forehead was dry and not overly warm.
She stirred and looked up at him, her gaze devoid of any hint of the vampire. She offered a hesitant smile, her teeth perfectly straight and white. Fang-free, he thought with relief.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, keeping his voice low and soothing.
“Better.”
She tried to rise but flinched, and he applied gentle pressure on her shoulder to keep her lying down.
“We’ll get you to a more comfortable bed in my guest room in a few minutes. But take your time and let the blood do its work first.”
“I’m not healed yet?” Her hand had shifted beneath the space blanket to where she’d been staked. Even the breath for those words seemed hard fought.
“It may take some time. Human time, I‘m thinking.”
She groaned with exasperation. “You’re talking weeks? The Slayer Council—”
“Isn’t going to be too happy with you anyway,” he said wryly.
Michaela grimaced. “
No doubt I’ll have a permanent bullseye on my back after tonight. Benjamin was one of the few friends I had on the Council and I failed him. Failed them all.”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Is he—”
“I suspect so,” Ryder said sympathetically. “Diego stayed with him, but I haven’t heard anything, so… ”
“He was a good man. He didn’t deserve what Bartholomew did to him.” Tears broke loose and trickled down her cheeks.
Ryder clamped his jaw. “Diana and Jesus will take care of Bartholomew.” And he needed to get to The Lair as soon as possible to help them.
Michaela’s watery gaze snapped to him, glittering with pain and frustration. “How can you be so sure?”
He was confident, if worried. He had sensed his lover’s weakness tonight, and knew it had been an enormous effort just to reach Michaela and Benjamin. But he also knew the deep well of courage that was the source of her strength. She would finish what she had to do. And he wanted to be there with her.
“I’m sure,” he said, “because I know my Diana. Benjamin and the others will have justice tonight.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Jesus had killed the lights and sirens as soon as they pulled onto Jay Street, and raced the last few blocks to The Lair. Diana noticed two unmarked police cars parked at the corner, and they’d passed a foot patrol about a half block away—probably their backup.
“Over there.” She motioned to where Daly was getting out of one of the unmarked cars.
Jesus pulled their sedan to the curb and cut the engine. They went to meet the detective and the two officers on foot joined them at the curb. Daly inclined his head in the direction of The Lair. “Tell me what’s going on, Reyes.”
“The killer who slashed that homeless guy’s throat.”
Diana handed them a picture of the brothers she’d snagged during their visit to Benjamin’s home, and pointed. “This one. He’s either in the club, or will be sometime tonight. White male, approximately thirty years of age. Brown eyes. He’s dyed his hair brown, but it’s normally sandy-colored. Last seen wearing black jeans and hiking boots. Black T-shirt and a black leather duster. He’s likely to be wearing a ball cap or beanie.”
“That describes a lot of the Goths and hipsters that frequent The Lair,” Daly said with a disgusted shake of his head.
Diana continued, “He bolted last time he thought he’d been spotted, but I think he’ll make his stand tonight. Stay alert. He’s psychotic, armed, and dangerous.”
“What do you want from us?” Daly asked.
“You look too much like cops to blend. ADIC Hernandez and I’ll make a sweep of the interior. Flush our suspect onto the street,” Diana said.
Jesus tipped his head at the entrance to The Lair. “I’ll stick by the front door, although I doubt he’ll try to make his escape that way.”
Daly nodded. “I’ve got two uniforms on the side alleys. I’ll go with these two to the back entrance. If I remember, that alley opens onto the nearby streets, so we’ve got to contain him if he comes out that way. I’ve called for additional backup.”
“That’ll be a big help,” Diana said.
“You got radios?” Daly asked her and Jesus.
“Not on us.”
Daly lifted his chin at the uniforms. “One of you lend the feebs your radio.”
An officer unclipped the radio from his shoulder and handed it to Jesus, who passed it to Diana. “Reyes is taking lead for us tonight,” he said, surprising her.
Her friend obviously realized he was too personally involved to make rational decisions. She’d always had great respect for him, and this only confirmed she hadn’t been wrong in her judgment.
“Okay,” Daly said. “No radio chatter, people. Listen for my instructions, especially if our suspect makes a run for it.”
She and Jesus went to the front door, and after Daly and his men slipped into the side alley, they entered the club. With a quick nod, they separated, Jesus covering the entrance and Diana working her way toward the back. It was another busy night, although not as crowded as the evening she and Ryder had their date. A smattering of patrons rocked out on the dance floor, but otherwise it was relatively easy to sift through the crowd, searching for Bartholomew.
She reached the other end of the dance floor without spotting their suspect. She hoped her profile hadn’t been wrong. Her gut told her someone with his kind of ego would enjoy challenging them by returning to the same place, especially after they’d messed up his hunt the other night. Being able to take someone now, when the police knew who he was and where he might go, upped the excitement level for him.
He probably had trouble sexually without the added rush.
The club widened beyond the dance floor. With the erratic beams of light shooting from above, and the dimness created by the cavern-like walls, Bartholomew would be hard to spot. Unless…
“I’m going up on the catwalks,” she said into the radio, and peered at the walkways that ran every which way high above the main level of the club.
“Roger,” Daly replied over the radio. For good measure, she called Jesus and reported to him as well. She headed back toward the stage and the stairs up to the non-public spaces, all the while keeping her eye out for their suspect. But no luck.
A bouncer stood at the door to the private area stairs. At her approach, he bobbed his head in recognition.
“Evening, Ms. Reyes.”
“Evening, Mike. See anything unusual tonight?”
“Same ol’, same ol’,” he said as he held the door open for her.
“Thanks, Mike.” She jogged up the stairs. At the top, she stopped in the security area containing a wall of monitors for the cameras that were trained on the public areas inside as well as outside the club.
“I see something’s up,” said Charlie, the retired policeman Ryder had hired to head up security.
“You’ve still got a cop’s eyes,” Diana said, and hugged the older man. “Can you keep an eye out for this one? His hair is darker now and he may be wearing a baseball cap or beanie.”
Charlie peered at the photo and nodded. “Will do, Ms. Reyes. I’ll call your cell if I see anything.”
She headed down the hall to the door that opened onto the maze of catwalks that were used to access the spotlights and sound equipment tucked up close to the ceiling. Stepping onto the first catwalk, she was hit by a wave of dizziness and nausea.
Whoa. Dragging in a deep breath to stop the falling sensation, she hung onto the railing and carefully made her way onto the narrow metal bridge. With her keen night vision she could pick out a lot more detail, being high above the crowd and away from the jarring lights that played over the sea of people. Pausing about a quarter of the way across, she scoped out the area below. A few dozen people were dancing. Several couples were standing close to the faux cave walls where rock-like outcroppings created nooks for privacy. Nothing unusual in that. Hell, even she and Ryder had enjoyed a passionate moment or two in those concealed places.
At the edge of the dance floor, she spotted a pretty redheaded woman talking to someone hidden in the shadows. She sensed the redhead was a vampire. She thought about the quick rundown Jesus and Ryder had provided her on the way to Benjamin’s. The young woman fit the unsub’s pattern. Vampire pale, red-haired, slender and pretty, she matched the description of the second victim perfectly. She’d have to keep tabs on her.
Diana shifted to get a better view of the lone figure lurking deep in the shadows along the dark perimeter of the club, talking to the redhead. A man, judging from the boots. The very large boots. Diana pulled out her cell phone and called Jesus. “I think I spotted him. He’s standing near the stage door talking with a redheaded vampiress. He may grab her and break out of the stage door into the side alley.”
She radioed Daly to let him know, then hurried back to reach the stairs leading down to the ground floor. Her footsteps sounded loudly on the metal grating and she hoped it would not be audible above the sound
of the live band. Her quick pace also sent the catwalks swaying to and fro. It felt like being on a boat in a storm.
A second, more powerful wave of nausea suddenly hit her. She got so dizzy her head spun, and she slammed into the wall by the stairs. Breathing heavily, fighting the desire to throw up, she felt a sickly, oozing sweat pop out on her skin.
At the foot of the stairs, the stage door flew open, and light from outside spotlighted the figure standing there.
Bartholomew. The man looked too much like the dead slayer not to be his brother.
She must have made a noise. He looked up, spotted her, and bolted out the door. She raced down the stairs, her knees wobbly from the vertigo.
Shouts came from outside, warning him to stop, but the heavy clomp of footsteps rushing past told her Bartholomew had not halted.
She dashed outside, chasing after Daly and the two uniforms in pursuit. Bartholomew was way ahead of them. Thankfully, he hadn’t grabbed the vampiress as a hostage. Halfway down the alley he made a sharp turn onto one of the side streets, and slipped on a piece of garbage. His feet skidded out from under him.
As he scrambled up, two uniforms tore around the next corner, charging up the street toward him.
Boxed in from both ends, he spun back around the corner and sped the other way down the long, narrow alley, ducking around trash bins and jumping potholes. If he reached the end of the alley he could escape onto a main street.
Diana heard Daly order a cruiser to go around and head him off at the other end. He also barked out instructions to any unengaged cops in the area to move in.
“Proceed with caution,” Diana warned over the radio. “He’s armed and dangerous.”
By the time Diana reached Daly, Jesus had also heard the chatter on the radio and raced around from the front to join them.
“The three of us go together down the alley,” she said, breathless. “Stay tight to the walls or the doorways.”
Daly drew his weapon. “There are some small pockets and another couple of gaps between the buildings where he might be able to hide,” he said. “Also a couple of blind alleys.”
To Love and Serve Page 19
