Forbidden Touch

by K. S. Haigwood

  "Have you let this human see you, hear your voice?" he asked sternly.

  Well, she had in his dreams, but the guy was convinced that his dreams weren't real so what did that matter? "No. He knows nothing of our kind, Father." That wasn't a lie; he didn't have a clue what she was.

  He turned and looked at her Mother and she nodded. She could tell if anyone was lying, and Ciera hadn't had to. Mitch didn't know anything about vampires…yet. "Very well, I know you are aware of the laws. You are one of my best pupils, and I would absolutely hate to see the Elders strike you down for foolishness."

  She nodded once. "I am aware of the laws, Father."

  "You may go," he said.

  Ciera turned on her heel and walked out of the conference room.

  Dane caught up with her. She knew he would. Like her Mother and Father, Dane wasn't really her brother. Every vampire that had the same task as her was known as a Brother or Sister. One big happy family. Dane had been trying to get beneath her flat sheet for some time now, over a century really, but she didn't see him that way. He was fun to hang around with, and one time she had even found out what an excellent kisser he was, but she really didn't want anything intimate with the vampire. She hadn't ever wanted anything intimate with anyone… until now. Being celibate all these many centuries was how she did her task so well. Thoughts of desire and passion would only cloud the senses, and she couldn't afford to let the enemy win because her head was filled with kisses and love.

  She had been taken from her true family by a Rogue more than three centuries ago, and had been only twenty-five years of age and unmarried. It was very unusual back then, to be of that late age and still be un-betrothed, but Ciera hadn't been interested in any of her suitors, and she simply would not marry someone she wasn't in love with. It wasn't too long before the men stopped knocking on her father's door altogether. They wanted young girls, so it would seem as if she was to become an old maid, and for some reason she found that comforting. Little did they know how old, of an old maid, she would become.

  She had no thoughts of intimacy over the long years, and she concentrated on the tasks in front of her instead of dwelling on being held tightly in the embrace of two strong arms. Well, that statement had applied up until four weeks ago. She had thought about nothing else really in the last month, but there was only one man she thought about doing those particular things with, and it was forbidden for him to know about her.

  "Ciera!" Dane said, and she blinked a few times before focusing in on him.

  "I'm sorry, what?"

  "Where is your head? Up your ass?" he asked her, and she smiled because she remembered that floozy little blond at the police department saying the same thing to Mitch a little earlier.

  "I was only trying to come up with another method to track the Rogue, Dane. You need something?" She threw Mitch's line at him, but it didn't have the same effect that it had on the blond bombshell, Gracie.

  He walked a little closer to her, and laid his hand on her cheek. She backed up a little, and he followed her move with his. "I love you, Ciera. You know how much I want us to be together. Why do you ignore me as if I am nothing more than human?"

  If he only knew how she didn't ignore humans anymore. She shook her head and backed away from him. "I'm not interested in love Dane. You're already aware of that."

  His expression became solid and stern, pissed to be exact. "And your feelings for this mortal cop, what are they, Ciera? I know that you have not stayed in your apartment in weeks. You have been staying with him!"

  Her eyes widened, but she thought quickly. "Only in invisible form, Dane. He is unaware of my presence. I can't miss the chance for him to find the victims' names. If I do, all is lost."

  He grimaced. "You are a terrible liar, Ciera. Let you not forget what my special skill is." And with that, he turned and walked away from her.

  She let out a long breath. How could she have been so stupid to forget the advantage he possessed? He was the strongest clairvoyant she knew.

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  Chapter 8

  Mitch woke on Friday morning feeling rested for the first time in a month. He was a little sore from boxing the night before, but he hadn't had any nightmares when he finally did get to sleep. He guessed he had been right to assume the dreams were actually coming from that woman, or thing rather. At any rate, she hadn't shown back up last night after he returned from the gym, or he hadn't thought she had.

  It was a crisp clear morning, only the city's smog to smother things, but it was a little too chilly to ride the bike comfortably. So he was stuck driving that damn car. Oh well, he thought as he started the engine, there have been worse things to happen to me lately.

  He had forgotten all about the pizza in his race to get ready. He'd been so tired when he went to bed, that he had forgotten to set the stereo to cut off at 6:30. He looked at the clock; it was 7:45 a.m. He only had fifteen minutes to get to work and the traffic was bad, like every morning at this time. It wasn't like he was punching a clock or anything. If his Captain or Lazarus asked where he had been, he would just tell them that he'd been following up a lead on the case and had hit another dead end. With that thought, he decided to drive through Micky D's for a little breakfast and coffee.

  He didn't eat most mornings, but had realized lately that he was biting everyone's heads off before lunch arrived. Better to nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand, he thought. He was already dangling off the edge, ready to fuckin' jump.

  He pulled in behind only one other vehicle. The place was usually packed this time of morning, but after glancing at his clock again, he realized that he was the one running late. Everyone else was already at their destination for the day.

  He ordered a sausage biscuit something-or-other and a coffee, that had to be better than the shit they were serving at HQ. He ate while driving, which was a no-no in this city, but he was the one with the badge. So he stretched the law sometimes, what cop didn't? Well, he knew a few straight-laced cops that didn't even jaywalk, and those narks would write him up a ticket for doing it, so he kept an eye trained on the traffic so he wouldn't run into any of them.

  He parallel parked at the station, leaving the evidence of his McDonalds bag in the car. He wasn't leaving his coffee though, which kind of defeated the purpose. If he got busted, well, then he just got busted. He was not drinking that bitter shit they claimed was coffee.

  "Good morning, Foley," Gracie said, and batted her long eyelashes as he entered homicide. Guess she had forgiven him for being so rude yesterday. Damn.

  "Morning," he replied without smiling and then walked on past her.

  "Captain wants to see you in his office. I think his exact words were, "The second Foley gets here, someone, anyone, tell him to get his ass in my office!" she said, imitating Captain Lore to a T. She hadn't been flirting when he walked in, she'd only wanted to be the first one to tell him that he was about to get an ass chewing. And from the look on her face, she had enjoyed it way too much. Guess she was still a little pissed off. Oh well, he thought as he made his way to the Captain's office, not stopping to set his coffee at his desk. If he was going to get chewed out, might as well have an excuse for it.

  He opened the door and walked in without knocking. He never knocked.

  "Sit down, Foley," the Captain said as he glanced at Mitch above the rim of his glasses. His face was beyond red, it was more a purplish color. He was trying to be calm, instead of doing his usual shouting; that worried Mitch a little.

  He sat in the chair in front of the Captain's desk and looked at him squarely. Captain Lore stood and walked around the desk with a newspaper in his hand. Mitch closed his eyes and shook his head. He knew what he would see before the Captain even handed it over to him. He'd seen the two victims in his mind only two nights ago, but they wouldn't have made the paper until this morning.

  He took the paper from the Captain and looked at the front page. There were three photos there. He'd only seen two in his drea
ms; why were there three? Then he looked a little closer at the third victim. He knew that guy.

  "See anyone you know?" the Captain said, almost as if he was reading his mind. "There were three guys that brought him to the hospital at one o'clock this morning. They told Gracie that they saw the whole thing happen, said the killer was a cop. They described you, Foley. Care to elaborate?"

  It was the big guy that he'd boxed the night before at the gym. "Look, Captain," Mitch said, sitting up in his chair nervously. "I went to the gym last night and boxed this guy. I knocked him out cold, and then I left and went home."

  "Anyone gonna be able to verify your alibi?" Mitch could tell that the Captain had concern in his voice, and he was no longer pissed. He would help him if he could.

  Mitch closed his eyes and shook his head. "You know that I live alone."

  "Look, I'm not going to arrest you. But I am going to need your gun and badge until all of this gets cleared up. If you hadn't shown up for work this morning, they were going to bring you in. It isn't like you to be late, Foley. I tell ya, I was getting a little worried. The reason I'm not hauling your ass to a cell right now is because you are one of my best detectives, and you have been working so hard on this case. I honestly don't think you have done this. I suggest that you find the killer, and find him quick. You're going to be under surveillance, so don't bother leaving the city. Find the killer or you are going to be tried. I'm sorry," he said as he shook his head.

  Mitch stood up and knocked the chair across the room. He breathed deeply a few times to calm himself down. He didn't need to be arrested for destruction of property, especially when the property was his boss's. He took his gun out of the holster, his badge off his belt and laid them on the Captain's desk before leaving the office quietly.

  He grabbed the large file off his desk and walked out of homicide with his head held high.

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  Chapter 9

  Ciera walked into homicide behind a big bellied man who had eaten way too many doughnuts in his career. Invisible, of course. She couldn't go out in daylight unless she was in this form. She didn't see Mitch right off, and she hadn't seen his motorcycle outside, or his unmarked car that he rarely drove. She had given him some space last night, and went to her own home. Her family would be watching her closely now, especially Asabel and Dane. She could make absolutely no mistakes. She had cried for hours after she'd gotten home. She knew she would never be able to show herself to Mitch; she would never feel his touch on her skin. She knew they couldn't be together, but now it was confirmed. They would know, then destroy her without a second thought if they found out that she was in love with a human.

  She couldn't feel him in the building anywhere, but she had to find him. She stepped back out of homicide when the floozy girl that had been talking with Mitch the night before walked out. She went under a stairwell where no one could see her. She made herself visible, then stepped back out from under the stairwell and went through the homicide door again. There were no windows on this floor, so she was safe from the sun's rays.

  It was noisy, but she knew the instant everyone saw her, a pin drop could be heard in the silence. She walked up to the first guy she saw and batted her long eyelashes at him. His eyes widened, and his mouth fell open slightly at the sight of the woman leaned against his desk.

  "Can you tell me where I might find Detective Mitch Foley? I have some information on the case he's working on." Ciera was good with persuasion. Some of her kind could mess with the minds of others, and she could too, to an extent. But she couldn't use compulsion to make people tell her things or make them do things. That was Asabel's skill, and she was envious of the girl sometimes. The only thing she could do was make humans forget they had seen her after she had fed off them. But any vampire could do that. Making them forget the last few minutes of their memory was the easiest trick to learn. She could make herself invisible, and she was the only one of her kind, that she knew of, that could do that. She was free to walk in the sun like that, where other vampires never would be able to.

  "I uh…" He closed his mouth and swallowed, then opened it again to speak. She hoped he got the sentence out this time. She almost rolled her eyes, but refrained. Humans were so slow to get to the point. His brow furrowed. "I think Foley got suspended a little while ago. I think he's a suspect in the case he is working, but they didn't arrest him or anything." He shut his mouth with a snap and looked nervously at Ciera, like he wasn't sure he should've told a civilian that kind of information.

  She patted his arm and smiled, even though her blood was racing through her veins at the speed of light. She had to get out of here and find him. How the hell would someone be able to frame him for murdering all of those mortals? "Thank you and…" she looked deep in his eyes, "You never talked to me." He nodded, then blinked slowly a few times. When he could focus again, Ciera was walking away from his desk.

  She made herself invisible and ran out of the station, then ran as fast as she could go to Mitch's apartment. It was about five miles, but that was nothing to her. She didn't have a choice but to tell him what she was. They could kill her if they wanted to, but she couldn't let him go down for this.

  Mitch drove around town till almost sunset trying to figure out why the three other guys would tell the cops that he drained the blood out of their buddy's veins. And how the hell could he do that anyway without cutting the motherfucker? He wasn't a witch or anything. The thought froze him, and he slammed on the brakes. Tires squealed from behind him, and then horns were blowing. He could imagine that birds were flying as well. He quickly pulled the car over and threw it in park.

  Witches didn't exist, not really. But he couldn't think of anything else it could be. It was as if the blood in the victims' bodies just vanished like magic. His eyes widened in disbelief. Could witches be real? Was that how the woman could make herself invisible to him and enter his dreams? It was the only explanation. He sighed. It was too bad that he'd run her off. Maybe she could have fixed all of this mess for him. Or was it her that caused it in the first place?

  He put the car in drive again and drove toward his apartment. It wasn't far, but he hit the sirens and put the pedal to the floor anyway. He had to go through that damn file again. There had to be some clue in there to lead him to the real murderer.

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  Chapter 10

  Mitch unlocked his apartment door. He turned the knob; the keys slipped from his fingers. When he bent to pick them up, the door opened about three inches. He heard a sound and froze. Someone was in his apartment. He reached for his gun, then cursed as he realized that he'd had to hand it over to the Captain. He could shut the door and call Lazarus to come and subdue the intruder, but he knew if he could make it to the counter, he had another pistol in the drawer.

  He moved beside the door and pushed it open. He waited a moment then quickly glanced into his apartment. He didn't see anyone. It may have been his nerves that made him think he'd heard something. He waited another moment, and then walked as quietly as he could manage to the kitchen drawer. He pulled it open and swiftly palmed his Beretta. He glanced at the living room, nothing there. He backed against the hall wall, and with both hands on his weapon at the left side of his body, he crept slowly toward the bathroom.

  "Put the gun down before you hurt yourself, Mitch." He turned swiftly and pointed it at the voice, her voice, but she wasn't there.

  "Who are you?" he said nervously as his eyes darted around the living room.

  "I am who you think I am."

  "And who, or what, exactly would that be?" He still had the gun pointed at air. He couldn't see who he was talking to, but he knew he didn't trust her. He was looking at major prison time here, maybe even the death penalty.

  "Did you not ask me last night if I was her? Oh, for Christ's sake, Mitch, put that damn gun away. I'm not going to hurt you."

  He could imagine the things she could do to him if she could make herself disappear, but for some
reason he believed her. He didn't know why, she was trying to get him thrown in jail for the rest of his life. He lowered it and sighed. "You have some explaining to do."

  "I know," she said, and her voice cracked with emotion.

  He turned his head to the side and looked at the couch. There was a perfect impression in the cushion like someone small was sitting there. Why did she sound so upset? He should be the one in tears here. "You can start anytime," he said, his tone unrelenting.

  She sighed. "You're in trouble."

  "Tell me something I don't know," he said, staring hard at the couch, where she was invisible but clearly present.

  She looked at him. Was he angry with her, or…oh God, he thought she'd gotten him in trouble. "You think I caused this." It wasn't a question. She could tell by the look on his face that's exactly what he was thinking.

  "You haven't exactly given me a reason why you wouldn't do this to me. Are you saying you didn't frame me?" He waited a moment and listened hard. Was she crying? "Damn it! Quit being a coward and show yourself."

  "It isn't that simple!" she shouted through her tears. "I've already broken too many laws."

  "Yeah, I would say you have broken a few laws, twenty of them. Murder is illegal in every country in the world. Framing a cop for murder is illegal as well, so you've broken twenty-one laws. I'm positive I can come up with more if I had more time, but I don't have more time! They are going to put me in prison and probably give me the death penalty for this."

  "I didn't kill those people, Mitch, and I didn't frame you. I've been trying to help you find the killer. I don't know who it is, but I know what it is."

  He closed his eyes and rubbed his free hand down his face. He was exhausted, and this wasn't helping. She was trying to make him guess everything. "What the hell is it then, a witch, like you?"