Deadly Liaisons

by Terry Spear

  “She’s not a regular police officer, but an investigator with the SCU—worse, a borderline rogue, a dark huntress, who is bound to cause even more trouble.”

  Atreides’s lips turned up so slightly, only someone who knew him as well as Daemon did would have noticed. “Ups the stakes a bit for the killer, don’t you think?”

  The muscle in Daemon’s jaw tightened. “If he kills her, there’ll be an outcry from the SCU. No doubt we’ll have another bloodbath on our hands.”

  The woman’s car disappeared into the fog.

  “Many of us liked the good old days,” Atreides said.

  “Back to the slaughtering, back to a time when vampires preyed on humans and SCU hunters eliminated any vampire to even the score. An inhumane period of darkness for humans and vampires.” Daemon shook his head. “You’re not still angry over Uncle Solomon’s death, are you?”

  He knew his brother was. Knew the wound still festered from losing the last of their natural kin to overzealous cops investigating murders committed by a killer vampire they had assumed their uncle had been involved in.

  “If you want to help the investigator, look elsewhere for the killer. You know he’ll target her next.”

  “She’s offered herself like a sacrificial meal.” Daemon grunted. “A foolishly arrogant notion. Though the murderer will have a more difficult time of it—she’ll be easier to kill than a hunter, but infinitely more of an…interesting challenge for the rogue than the city police officers.”

  “Will you aid her?” His brother’s lips turned up, his eyes sparkling.

  “What do you think?” Daemon couldn’t help the sharpness edging his words.

  Atreides hesitated to respond, wearing an odd expression that Daemon couldn’t read.

  “You respect their work to a degree, but have no more love for them than they have for us,” Atreides finally said.

  “Despite your preference for the good old days, Atreides, I want peace for everyone’s sake.”

  If Daemon was forced to, he’d help the woman with her investigation to keep that peace. But only if there were no other alternatives.

  A strange sense of foreboding washed over him. No matter how much he wanted to stay uninvolved, he couldn’t fight feeling Tezra Campbell would soon need his protection. Nothing worse than tangling with a member of the SCU who viewed vampires with disdain.

  “Don’t do anything to get yourself into trouble, Atreides,” Daemon warned, then headed to the police station to find out more details concerning the killings. He’d locate the murderer without involving himself with the woman.

  At least that was the plan.

  ***

  Except for the second bedroom she’d converted into an office and lab, Tezra’s apartment was cloaked in darkness. Perched on her leather chair, studying samples from two previous killings on slides under the microscope, she rubbed her temple to massage the headache brewing there. Too many late-night hours investigating the murders. She took another sip of her coffee and grimaced to find it cold. The phone jangled, shattering the peace and her nerves.

  Lifting the receiver she said, “Yes?”

  “You…you needed to know about my husband, Officer Stevens?”

  “Cynthia Stevens?” Tezra hadn’t thought the bereaved woman would call her but that someone from the police force would. The sound of the woman’s barely controlled emotions didn’t help Tezra keep her own feelings out of it.

  “He…he didn’t wear cologne. My…my husband. He was allergic to stuff like that. I couldn’t even wear perfume or he’d…” Cynthia broke into fitful sobbing.

  “I’m…I’m so sorry, Cynthia. I…I wish I could have saved him.”

  “You? What could you have done against the demon? He’ll…he’ll kill them all.” The phone clicked dead in Tezra’s ear.

  He’ll kill them all, echoed in Tezra’s tired brain. He’ll kill who all? All the men at the precinct? She slowly let out her breath. Hell, now what? She needed to know what Cynthia knew, but she figured the widow was too distraught to question at the moment.

  But the business about the cologne…didn’t it prove that two vampires were present tonight? One wearing her father’s cologne, the other wearing sandalwood? And Krustalus had attempted seductive solicitation while the other vampire was filled with rage?

  She glanced at her watch. Where the hell were the new tissue samples?

  As if in answer to her unspoken query, her front door opened. She knew damn well she had locked it. It shut with an ominous click. She sat frozen, listening for footsteps. There was no sound save the central heater rumbling as hot air spilled through the overhead vent.

  Slowly, she slid her chair away from the desk toward her sword. A rush of adrenaline flooded her system, readying her for the perceived danger.

  Before she could reach her sword, a man appeared in the doorway of her office and silently observed her. An ancient vampire. Since she had not invited him in, who the hell had? And why had he come through the front door? A game, maybe. To give her warning he was on his way, taunting her. Or perhaps to ensure she was all alone in the apartment, to avoid complications should there be a hunter here to protect her back, lounging in bed, waiting for her to finish her work.

  The vampire’s dark brown eyes watched her with unblinking severity. His sinister look and the size of him—six-feet, broad-shouldered—chilled her to the bone. Dressed in black slacks, shoes and a satin shirt, large-collared with full sleeves, he reminded her of a well-clothed pirate. The buttons opened halfway down his chest revealed a smidgeon of dark brown hair, triggering the notion he was marketing his goods—to conquer, to will her to him, to sate his hunger. He looked starved while he devoured every inch of her with his sexist glare.

  Bolting from the chair, Tezra yanked her sword out of its stand next to the desk. Her heart thundered, and she knew the blood pulsing rapidly through her veins would trigger his bloodlust. Yet, he watched, no reaction at all.

  “How did you get in?” she snapped. She spread her feet apart, giving herself better balance, preparing herself for his attack.

  “What have you learned about the killer?” His voice, dark and deep, could seduce a female human easily into offering her throat to him before he bit into her jugular.

  “Why? Are you afraid I’ve told the police who you are?”

  His lips twitched.

  She didn’t waver in her stance. She couldn’t kill him unless she was certain he was a rogue. Then again, if he advanced on her, she’d assume the worst.

  “If that were so, what name did you give?” He walked over to her microscope, leaned down and peered into it as if he owned the place.

  Her ire grew.

  Since the distance between them remained the same, she shifted to ensure she still would meet him head-on if he attacked. Her hands clammy, her sword grew heavy while she kept it raised and ready for a fight.

  The name Daemon flittered across his mind…and hers.

  Daemon looked up from the slides when she didn’t respond.

  “Your name’s Daemon.” She would have enjoyed the fleeting look of surprise that crossed his face if it wasn’t for the danger he represented.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He rose to his full height. “How do you know my name?”

  She wasn’t afraid of him. Being killed by a vampire in the line of duty was an honorable way to die, though she wasn’t really contemplating defeat. “I’ve been investigating you,” she lied.

  He studied her, trying to break through her mental barriers to find the truth. The gentle probes stretched out to her, attempting to locate a weakness in her resolve, but her telepathic shield to keep him from penetrating her thoughts remained in place. His face grew shadowed in darkness. “When you wish to be honest, you can do some work for me.”

  She raised her brows. Conceited bastard. “Why have you killed the policemen?”

  “Dark huntress,” he telepathically said, his gaze willing her to surrender to his
superiority, his charm.

  Pursing her lips, she fought showing her surprise. He was the one who’d tagged her as a dark huntress while she was investigating Stevens’s murder. The same vampire who’d seemed sexually fascinated with her. The one who appeared to be in charge. Her skin tingled with fresh awareness, though she tried to keep her reaction neutral.

  Then with a noble air, he cocked his head slightly as if dismissing her question. “You’ll get nothing from me until you tell me how you know my name and have connected me with these crimes.”

  No one knew of her telepathic abilities except Krustalus. Not even what was left of her family. And she aimed to keep it that way. No way did she want the SCU to use her like they had her Aunt Jessica and her aunt’s lover, Camilla. The organization had manipulated them to find out information—even going so far as to pry into areas the SCU shouldn’t.

  “How did you get into my apartment?” she asked again, her voice razor sharp.

  Daemon appeared only mildly annoyed, as if she were an insignificant pest. “If you won’t cooperate, so be it.” He waved his hand and vanished, sifting in the way of the vampire, their movement so fast, the eye couldn’t follow.

  A chill trickled down her skin. She couldn’t help feeling he was the invisible man, watching her. She knew he wasn’t here since vampires could not hang about in a completely invisible state, but that didn’t dilute the unnerving feeling that a part of him lingered in her office—maybe because she still detected the faint aroma of his spicy cologne. Nor could she wipe out the tingling in her brain where he tried to penetrate her defenses.

  A knock on her door sounded, making her jump half out of her skin. Certain it was finally the police officers with the tissue samples from the crime scene, she strode down the hall to the front door, ready to give them a tongue lashing for arriving so late. She couldn’t crush the anger swirling in her blood that someone—probably her apartment manager—had let the vampire into her place, either. Now, Daemon could return anytime he wanted. She peeked out the peephole and was only vaguely surprised to see her faithful hunter watchdog, Bernard, standing on the porch. Icy blue eyes and his haggard face warned her of trouble.

  She opened the door, but before he even spoke, a hint of red caught her eye, and her gaze shifted to the parking lot.

  A police officer lay deathly still next to her car, the blood pooling from his throat onto the gray concrete slab.

  Chapter Two

  After carefully examining the officer’s body, Tezra discovered he wasn’t carrying any tissue samples—if he had been the one bringing them to her. A gold wedding band encircling his finger looked brand new, and her heart sank deeper. She examined his I.D. Alex Mitchell.

  Hating she had to make another call like this tonight, she contacted Mandy, explained the details of the murder, then repocketed her phone. She considered the way he’d been killed, the same MO as the others. Why hadn’t the police taken more precautions? Cynthia’s words came back to haunt her. He’ll kill them all.

  “Pack your things. You’re coming home with me,” Bernard said, his words spoken as an order but in a monotone fashion, not gruffly, not braced with a hint of fight as she expected.

  “It’ll take me a minute.” She touched the policeman’s hand. He looked much younger than the others, a rookie? Not the same as the other killings. The killer’s way of telling her to leave the case alone? She swallowed hard, but her throat was dusty dry.

  When Bernard didn’t say anything, she glanced up at him. He appeared confused, not bargaining for her to sweetly agree? No smart-ass reply? Man, he had to be awfully tired if he was going to give her the silent treatment.

  She surveyed the mist, but didn’t sense anyone in the area. “Did you kick your bed guest out already? Where am I supposed to sleep?”

  Bernard motioned to the apartment. “Get packed. I’ll watch for the police.”

  She hesitated, not used to giving up a crime scene before the officials arrived, but it was looking bad for her always to be the first one at the scene of the crime. He stared at her as if annoyed she wouldn’t do as he asked.

  “All right.” She returned to her apartment and looked around at the chintz-covered sofas, the light wood furniture, the first she’d had since she’d been on her own. As soon as she could, she had to move her belongings to a new secure place. Somewhere the vampire, Daemon, couldn’t enter at will. Damn him.

  She stalked into her bedroom. Covered in a pale blue comforter, her bed waited for her like a lover with open arms. She realized then how exhausted she truly was. Tired of the killings, of chasing the vampire but not cornering him, of worrying about another murderer who might kill more, tired of getting nowhere fast. She filled her leather bag with clothes, personal items and two hunter’s swords.

  Bernard’s couch made into a double bed in his studio apartment. She really didn’t want to sleep with him. But the SCU senior staff must have sent him for her, and with Daemon gaining access to her place and another police killing—this one too close to home—it was just as well she stayed somewhere else for the night.

  She returned to the living room where Bernard stared back at her, his eyes tired.

  “Why aren’t you waiting for the police?” she asked, her voice rising an octave.

  “They’re here.”

  No sirens this time? She shook her head and handed her suitcase to Bernard.

  Would the SCU put a real stop to her investigation? She pulled the door open, planning to go to Bernard’s pad. As soon as he fell sound asleep, she’d leave and find a place where she could investigate undisturbed.

  When she and Bernard left her apartment, she glanced in the direction of her car. No body. “Where’s the crime scene? The tape? The police?”

  “The SCU’s handling it.”

  Bernard tossed her bag into the backseat of his pickup. His blue eyes seemed to hide some deep-seated sorrow. When she tried to read his mind, it was void of any thoughts, just like her mind would blank out when she was really tired.

  She glanced back at the spot where the officer had lain.

  Damn the Special Crimes Unit. As fast as they’d handled the site, they must have brought an army. “Which officer is handling it now?”

  Bernard didn’t reply.

  With the lateness of the hour, she figured he was as exhausted as she was. Or maybe he was more exasperated with her than usual.

  That something more was amiss didn’t register—not until they were on their way across town to his place, and it finally dawned on her they were going in the wrong direction. As if dipped into a half-frozen lake, her skin chilled, fear taking root at once. Had the SCU ordered she be put into protective custody for her own safety?

  Tension filled every fiber of her being. She wouldn’t be incarcerated ever again if she could prevent it. She’d go mad if they confined her.

  “Where are we going, Bernard?” When he didn’t respond, a dreadful feeling of claustrophobia forced her heart to speed up. “Bernard, where are you driving me?”

  “You shouldn’t have taken this job,” he said, his voice emotionless, not like him at all. He should have growled at her, scowled at her.

  Her thoughts swirled with renewed worry, and she rubbed her temple, trying to get her concerns under control.

  “I know, I know, Bernard. You’re so right,” she said, pretending to go along with the charade. “I’m not going to do any more investigating into the matter. Isn’t that what the SCU has decreed?”

  He glanced at her, his look detached.

  Twice now, she’d said something totally out of character for her. And twice he’d responded in the same way: uncharacteristically. What the hell was wrong with him?

  “Bernard, tell me where you’re taking me.”

  He didn’t reply.

  “The SCU thinks I’ll what? Jump out of a moving truck if I discover you’re taking me somewhere safe? Hell, I know that’s what you’re doing.” She crossed her arms with false bravado. “I’m glad yo
u came when you did. What with the visit I had from the murderer…”

  Bernard glanced at her but didn’t say a word. Now she really knew something was wrong. If she’d told him that earlier tonight when he was acting more himself, he’d have thrown a fit.

  “Anyway, then the police officer with the tissue samples was killed before he reached me and the samples stolen…”

  Again, Bernard looked at her, but his gaze shifted to the road once more.

  She attempted to read his mind again, hoping for some inkling of what was the matter. Nothing. She reached out to touch his arm. This time he looked sharply at her. Gladdened to see a more typical reaction from him, she patted his shoulder and concentrated on his thoughts.

  Nothing on Bernard’s mind—a completely blank slate. Though there never was any guarantee her abilities would perform under sleep-deprived conditions.

  Taking a deep, calming breath to placate her raw nerves and focus her energy on planning her escape, she leaned into the soft leather seat. She listened to everything around her while the pickup sped down the dark two-lane road, trying to determine where he was taking her.

  She turned her attention to the scenery. They’d slipped out of the suburbs into the countryside, but nothing seemed familiar.

  “Listen, I know that sometimes the SCU resorts to using strongarm tactics to put rebel investigators and hunters in line, which I am not, Bernard!”

  She still vividly remembered the time when two of the hunters confined her to a chair, got into her face and tried to coerce her into giving up the notion that a vampire had killed her parents. The way they had treated her like she was some kind of a criminal made her believe they were all in on a conspiracy. Which was making her feel horribly delusional right now, and she had to keep her mind straight on the matter. A vampire killed her parents. That’s what she knew.

  “Are…are you taking me to SCU headquarters?” She tried to sound sweet and innocent, and not hotter than a boiling kettle of water. The place the headquarters personnel met was kept secret since the vampires threatened annihilation of the SCU two years earlier. So it would make sense that she wouldn’t know the location, but—